


A Privilege of Primes

by gatekat, SunnySidesofBlue



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Politics, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySidesofBlue/pseuds/SunnySidesofBlue
Summary: Dead story.When the newly elevated Optimus Prime is introduced to a tradition of buying his favor with the seals of young nobles he has to find a way to cope. Fortunately for him, he's good at talking and listening and his first offering has quite the processor in his helm.





	1. An Ancient Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> RL killed another one. While I don't usually post stories that will never be completed, this one contains so much information on the Prime's Residence it is going up for it's tour value.
> 
> Floor Map of the Prime's Residence as far as we took it.  
> <http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Prime-s-Palace-floorplan-635272191>
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter

Optimus listened with only half an audial to the discussions - bickering, rather - of the senators around him and for the twentieth time in as many kliks fought back the urge to slam his fist into the podium and scream in frustration.

Ever since he was chosen by the Matrix a few decaorns ago his orns had been filled with meetings, presentations, introductions and endless joors of listening to mechs trying to either impress him - which no-one had succeeded in so far - or explaining to him that he really didn't need to bother himself with this or that issue, that Cybertron was in good hands and that he shouldn't worry about anything.

It was not that he had expected his new life as Prime to be easy. He had seen Cybertron from the bottom, or at least from comparatively far down the scale, and he had known that creating any lasting changes would be a huge task with a lot of forces working against him. Still, he had been hopeful and humbly grateful that he now would have a chance to accomplish things he could never have dreamed of doing as Orion Pax.

After nearly four decaorns of being met with remarks that were polite and reverent in wording but overbearing or patronizing in spirit every time he said something or asked a question, however, he'd come to the conclusion that no one in the senate or the palace expected or wanted him to be anything but a figurehead they could polish and put on display when they wanted to, someone to give speeches and make empty promises to keep the masses in check. They heaped gifts on him, gave lavish balls in his honor, but obviously had no intention of giving him a voice.

The hypocrisy of it all made Optimus's tanks churn and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up the carefree, polite facade. For all his studies during his time as archivist and the upgrades that had come with the Matrix he was still far from comfortable in the world of politics and he felt decidedly out of place.

Raising his cube of ultra-refined high grade - probably costing more than the average mech made in half a vorn - he took a careful sip of the potent beverage. He was fairly certain he'd had more high grade than regular energon these past few decaorns but thankfully his larger, heavier frame seemed to handle it without issues.

He let his optics sweep over the sea of brightly colored, well-polished and jewel-encrusted mechs and femmes, careful not to let his gaze rest upon anyone in particular for long. He's learned quickly that that would be taken as an invitation and if he could spare himself yet another breem-long lecture of how absolutely fantastically important this or that mech was for the future of Cybertron he would do so. That was about the only rule he currently approved of here: You did not approach the Prime uninvited unless you had a legitimate reason for doing so. Optimus couldn't help but find it ironic that everyone treated his person with such utmost respect when they clearly didn't care one iota what he thought or said.

He had almost started to relax in his relative solitude when one of his adjutants approached with a regal looking blue and silver Praxian in tow.

"My Lord Prime, may I introduce you to Lord Skyshard, ruler of the House of the Shining Sun, third house of Praxus," the adjutant said, then bowed away.

"Greetings, Lord Skyshard," Optimus said and just managed to hold back the impulse to reach out for the other's wrist in greeting. Touching, he'd been told, was another of those things a Prime shouldn't do.

The Praxian noble bowed and gracefully shifted his doorwings in a way that Optimus knew was supposed to convey subservience and reverence, and yet the Prime's now very advanced social programming instantly flagged the mech as insincere. He was not yet familiar enough with all the new coding to pick out the individual tells but he was used to the sensation by now since nearly every noblemech he'd met had prompted the same response.

"Greetings High Lord Prime, our connection to Primus, Giver of wisdom, greatest of all mecha..."

Optimus tuned out the rest of the dozen or so titles. He had plenty of practice with this. He also knew that anyone who went on with the litany like this wanted something. Once the whole tirade was over and concluded with the obligatory remarks on what a great honor it was to meet him and how magnificent this festivity was the mech finally began getting to the point.

"The relations between Praxus and Iacon have always been friendly, of course, and my House had many dealings with your predecessor," Lord Skyshard said, "and because of this I feel I am not overstepping my bounds in asking the Prime for a minor favor."

Ah, there it was.

"Please, tell me how I can be of service to the House of the Shining Sun," Optimus replied politely and felt an almost irresistible urge to laugh at how ridiculous the formal phrase sounded to his audials, like something out of a parody.

The Praxian, however, seemed pleased. "You are very kind, your grace," he said. "My fourth creation is going to bond in two decaorns' time and in honor of Primus it is my wish and his that he may first receive the Primal blessing."

That... was an unusually innocent request, Optimus had to admit, and not quite what he had expected from the overly courteous Praxian noble. Of course he doubted that there was any real reverence for their deity behind the request - there were probably political points to score by claiming that his creation had had his future union blessed by the Prime - but he could see no harm in it. He remembered clearly how excited he himself had been when he'd once been allowed to accompany his mentor Alpha Trion to the palace and actually see the Prime in real life, although he of course never actually spoke to him. If he could give this young mech something of that experience at no cost but a few kliks of his time he gladly would. "It would be my pleasure," he said with a gracious nod.

The noble teeked even more delighted and this time his bow felt far more genuine. It left Optimus wondering why, but the exchange returned to the usual small talk until a suitable amount of time had passed and they parted. He'd already made a note to himself to find out what was expected of him with the Primal blessing as he wondered through the room once more. It surprised absolutely no one when he found his way to one of the tables where sweet bites were laid out for guests and selected one of the sweetest things on offer. Even he had noticed as the parties racked up that his taste for sweets had been noted and catered to without a word from him. Sentinel Prime had preferred spice and savory.

The rest of the evening passed the way most other parties had but the encounter with the Praxian had brightened Optimus's mood considerably and he didn't find the superficial small talk nearly as annoying as usual. In passing he'd heard several mechs mention the Primal blessing and Lord Skyshard, several of them with obvious envy, and he had to wonder if this was something Sentinel had refused to do or, more likely, demanded a high price for. It wouldn't surprise him in the least since no-one in these circles seemed to be willing to give anything without expecting something in return.

For once he stayed on a bit longer than absolutely necessary but knowing he had another long orn ahead of him tomorrow he was still one of the first to prepare to leave. It wasn't quite as simple as just walking out, however, as there were a lot of mechs whom protocol demanded he speak to on his way out, not to mention security always wanted at least two breem to make sure the way back to his quarters was clear.

Finally he had said all the necessary goodbyes and was just about to leave when his adjutant approached him once more.

"A thousand pardons, my Prime," the mech said, "but Lord Skyshard would like to know whether your own medic will take care of the necessary documentation after the Blessing or if he should arrange for someone to be brought in."

It was sad that in less than four decaorns he'd learned how to lie in his field and expression so well, but it kept questions at bay that he didn't want so he didn't fight it. Besides, this one was easy. "Meso Garda will take care of it."

"Very well, my Prime," the adjutant replied with an acknowledging bow. "Are there any special arrangements you wish us to see to or should we follow standard procedure?"

Again Optimus choose the easy alternative. "No, thank you, follow standard procedure this time and I will let you know is I wish anything to be changed for future Blessings."

The servant bowed again and then left, presumably to deliver the Prime's answer to Lord Skyshard. Optimus pondered the strange request for a medic's report for a moment before he pushed it to the back of his priority queue, deciding it could all wait until tomorrow and went on his way with his usual two honor guards that were near him at all times outside the Residence. Now that place had been something to wrap his processors around. It had seemed like and entire apartment building with more amenities than he could comprehend, much less name, all for the use of one mech. What kind of existence did a previous Prime live to need so much?

The guards were shed at the entry of the grand foyer and remained outside while the owner of the space made a weary way towards the relative peace and quiet of his berthroom. Granted he didn't feel at all comfortable here in a space larger than the homes of everyone he'd known in his entire functioning as Orion Pax, and that wasn't counting a washrack he still couldn't wrap his processors around, but it was one space that the duties of a Prime had yet to dare enter.

Three steps in and he froze. Something wasn't right with his berth.

Reflex focused on the oddity that quickly clarified as a mech. Improved social recognition protocols informed Optimus it was a Praxian mech only just in his adult frame. That was all secondary once it sunk in that this mech was bound to Optimus's berth on his back and spread out in a decidedly obscene way. His interface panel was retracted, exposing his valve and spike housing - both of which were sealed, Optimus noted in passing - and even his chest plates were unlocked and slightly parted, a faint, pale blue glow emanating from the gap.

For several nanokliks Optimus just stood there staring, then he staggered backwards and sank into a chair next to the door as his processor started re-analyzing every line of conversation he had had during the evening. The picture that appeared as the dots connected was not a pretty one.

The Prime's Blessing. The Prime's _Privilege._ An ancient tradition he had of course heard of but never really thought was practiced, especially not in this eon.

He groaned and swept his hands over his forehelm, torn between anger, disgust and panic. How by every rust-infected bolt in the Pit was he going to deal with this?

Well, first things first. He pushed himself out of the chair and crossed the room to the berth, making a point of not looking too closely at the mech on display there. The flatness of the bound mech's field told Optimus that he was not in a natural recharge but drugged, and as if that wasn't enough the restraints that held him down were code locked and sturdy enough to keep even a mech of Optimus's own size and strength in place.

The observation made the Prime's engine rev in anger and his hands trembled as he as gently as he could closed the Praxian's chest plates and then dug out a soft mesh blanket and spread it over the young mech's frame, restoring some of his dignity.

Then he stormed out of his berth room, hurling out a comm. message for his adjutant to present himself _this very instant._ The swiftness with which the mech, Epostle, arrived would have been considered admirable but Optimus was in no mood to appreciate it.

"What," Optimus all but growled, gesturing towards the berth room "is the meaning of this?" Epostle looked and teeked rather nervous and slightly confused but answered quickly, though not in the way Optimus had expected. "I am sorry, my Prime, is there something wrong? Are the arrangements not to your satisfaction?"

Optimus stared at the mech for a moment, struggling to understand how the mech could _not_ instantly see everything that was horribly wrong with the 'arrangements'. He gathered his wits while Epostle struggled to see something only Optimus apparently saw as wrong. "No one in my berth should be drugged or bound," he ground out.

"But... but sir," Epostle stammered. "These measures are for your convenience and safety. Some mechs fail to appreciate the honor that is bestowed upon them during the Blessing and since it's your first time as officiant..." His words faded into silence as he finally took in just how upset and angry his master was.

"Are you questioning my decision?" Optimus asked coldly, and although he was not normally a mech who enjoyed inspiring fear in others - quite the opposite, in fact - he did feel a faint trill of satisfaction at the other mech's visible cringe. This mess was of course not entirely or even mainly Epostle's fault, but in Optimus's mind anyone who failed to see the wrong in drugging and tying up a mech to be 'faced without having a say in the matter deserved a scare at the very least.

"N...no, of course not, my Prime," Epostle responded quickly and moved even faster into the berthroom to remove the bindings, extremely aware of his Prime's hovering presence behind him. "Meso Garda will be here shortly to administer the antidote," he added as he stepped back from the now unbound Praxian. "How else may I serve?"

"Make sure this doesn't happen again," Optimus replied. "If there's even a hint of someone suggesting it I want to know about it at once. And bring a selection of energon and confections for my _guest._ "

"Yes, my Prime," Epostle bowed deeply before hurrying off to arrange for the fuel. He passed Meso Garda on his way in, though the medic was far less unsettled. He simply walked in, gave a nod to the new Prime and went about injecting something into the Prxian's primary fuel line, then a datachip was set in an arm port.

"He should be online within a breem," the medic said once his task was done. "He may experience some dizziness, which is a side effect of the original anesthetic, but that too should wear off fairly soon. Will there be anything else?"

"No, this will be all for now," Optimus replied, and Meso Garda turned to leave with a nod. He was almost at the door when Prime spoke again. "Wait, there is one thing I would like to know."

The medic stopped and turned again. "Yes?"

"I told Lord Skyshard that you will be taking care of the necessary documentation for this," Prime informed him. "What exactly do you put in such a report?"

"I confirm that valve and chamber seals have been broken, whether he is with newspark or not and any damage I repaired," Meso Garda answered smoothly. "It is to bring his medical records up to date, your Grace."

Optimus's spark sank but he nodded and dismissed the medic. So, a normal interface _and_ a spark merge were required, and they had clearly expected him to just take and make the most of it for himself. He shuddered and wondered briefly how many young mechs and femmes had been scarred for life, mentally if not physically, in that berth but quickly killed that line of thought. This was already difficult enough as it was.

With a frustrated sigh he sank down on the couch in the sitting room outside his berth room, determined to let the Praxian online in privacy. In the meantime he kept himself busy skimming through what records and archives he could access from here, trying to find out as much as possible about the mech in his berth room. It was frustratingly little until he stumbled his way across the mech's file for potential bondings. A quiet mech best suited for a subordinate mate that was desired to manage an estate and generally entertain himself. Good with finances and a fine education for his age in philosophy, economics and history already at 3rd degree level.

Optimus was still skimming the lesser education notes when he heard his guest move in the berth and caught the somewhat confused, then frightened sound.

Instantly alert at the sounds of distress Optimus quickly rose and made for the berth room. The sight that met him almost broke his spark: the young Praxian - who went by the designation Prowl, according to his brief research - was still on the berth, curled up as closely as his frame design allowed. His doorwings were pressed flat against his back and most of his helm was hidden by his arms, as if he was trying to protect himself from a physical blow. The low but clearly audible keening, almost like that of a wounded mechanimal, emanated from him had Optimus approached slowly and carefully so as not to startle the mech and distress him even further.

He continued until he sat on the edge of the huge berth and reached out with his field. What he met there was a cacophony of fear, confusion and distress stronger than any Optimus could recall. Yet even as the field contact ensured that Prowl knew someone was next to him, he didn't respond.

Keeping his field calm and friendly and making his best not to project how nervous he was Optimus finally spoke when it became obvious that his lack of action did not in any way lessen the tumultuous projections in the Praxian's field.

"Prowl," he said, "please, do not fear me. I have no intention or desire to harm you. I understand that this is a difficult situation and that you are not here of your own desire. I will not do anything with or to you until we have talked this through."

Pale, ice blue optics finally looked up with confusion winding its way through Prowl's field. "Yes, my Lord Prime," he whispered. "I'm not rejected?"

Optimus could only stare at the mech, processor struggling to understand what he'd said. Rejected? Was that what he had feared, that the Prime wouldn't want him? Had he _chosen_ to have his seals taken like this? That was something Optimus couldn't understand even if he tried.

The Prime's shock and confusion must have been more than obvious, and answer enough to Prowl's question because the Praxian's field instantly calmed and he looked relieved beyond words.

"No one told you what to expect or why the rite exists, did they, my Lord Prime?" Prowl's voice was low, but certain in his assessment.

Optimus suddenly felt like a student caught not having done his homework. "No," he admitted. "I have carried the Matrix for less than four decaorns and have not come across this... tradition until tonight. I know what the rite was once supposed to mean and that it has obviously been twisted beyond recognition since then but beyond that? No. Did you... choose this for yourself?"

"No, my Lord Prime," Prowl didn't think to lie. "Who I would interface with has never been my choice to make. Though I must admit my intended is not nearly so attractive as you."

Even though Optimus had always known intellectually that virtually all bonds within the nobility were arranged it was another of those things he'd never actually thought about or contemplated the consequences of. Hearing someone speak so calmly and apparently dispassionately about not having the right to choose who to interface with disturbed him greatly. Also, the roundabout compliment about his looks made him feel a lot more embarrassed than it should. Just like all the false reverence he kept being shown, simple flattery and more or less poorly veiled flirtation had been abundant. Prowl, however, both sounded and teeked sincere and it was refreshing.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Optimus said, and added with a hint of a smile, "though I suppose I should thank you for the compliment."

"It is only the truth," Prowl's field flushed slightly. "What would make tonight better for you, my Lord Prime?"

Privately, Optimus's first thought was 'not being in this situation to begin with' but given Prowl's earlier reaction he was fairly sure the Praxian would take such a statement entirely the wrong way. The mech _was_ certainly attractive and under other circumstances Optimus would have had nothing whatsoever against sharing his berth with him but the consent issue loomed over him in ways he wasn't sure how he was going to work past. "First of all," he said instead, "please call me Optimus. And I would appreciate it if you would join me for some energon in the sitting room."

"Yes, Optimus," Prowl said smoothly and slipped from the berth with the natural grace so many of his caste displayed.

Optimus led the way out of the berth room and over to the sitting group and the small table sporting various blends of high grade and a large plate of solid confections. "Please, help yourself," he said, gesturing towards the consumables even as he made himself comfortable in one of the large armchairs. He deliberately avoided the couch, fearing that Prowl would feel obliged to sit right next to him. He studied the Praxian as he made his choices - solar energon with a touch of copper and a treat that was the absolute opposite of Prime's own taste, bitter and acidic - and then sat down in the armchair opposite Optimus. Optimus raised his cube in a traditional salute, sipped a drink and then spoke again. "Please, tell me something about yourself."

"I am the fourth creation of Lord Skyshard, ruler of the House of the Shining Sun, the third house of Praxus. A decaorn ago I was entered into a bonding contract as the second subordinate mate to Lord Rimfire, ruler of the House of Far Reach, the second house of Crystal City," Prowl gave what he believed were the important points.

Optimus had hoped to learn something more about the mech himself but realized he should not be surprised by Prowl's answer. In the higher echelons of society your rank and connections was always considered more important than the individual behind them."Only a decaorn ago?" he echoed, choosing to stay on the subject. "And the bonding is supposed to take place two decaorns from now, or so I was told. Is that not unusually swift for such arrangements?

Prowl's entire frame quivered with embarrassment despite his best effort to hide it. "Yes, Optimus. My creator wanted to be rid of me before I could infect my younger siblings," he murmured.

"'Infect?'" Prime echoed with a slight frown. Not only did he find it disturbing that any creator would want to 'be rid of' their creation, but from what he'd been able to dig out about Prowl the mech seemed to be a good example to take after, studious and driven, rather than someone to lead younglings astray.

"Curiosity and questioning are not desirable traits once one is a mechling, Optimus. With that upgrade obedience and loyalty are valued." he explained gently.

Again, Optimus was hardly surprised even though the answer saddened him. In his mind inquisitive and curious was exactly what a mechling _should_ be. "In my experience those traits should not exclude one another," he said. "In fact I would say the latter two are even dangerous without the former. But from what I've seen since becoming Prime I conclude that that idea is not a widely spread opinion in these circles." He gave Prowl what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "I think this world needs more mechs like you, who want to learn and understand." That, at least, was something they had in common.

"It would be nice if it were true. How could a society function if the majority were always asking questions and disagreeing with their betters?" Prowl asked. "Elders are elders because they survived."

"Yet they often did so by stepping on others," Optimus challenged. "And sometimes elders close their minds to everything that is new just because they are too comfortable with what they know and understand. In the end they grow so afraid of change that they brand the very concept as something negative. Tell me, if a working class mech comes up with a brilliant idea for, say, rendering the energon purification system much more effective, but his superior refuses the idea just because the old one works well enough, who is then the better mech? The one whose idea could help fuel thousands or the one who simply stood on tradition?"

"It would depend on the definition of better one wished to use. There are several involved in such a situation; the worker, the working class, his supervisor, the company, the industry and the empire at a minimum." Prowl responded carefully. "Based on what you stated, the worker should have been taken more seriously. However, his superior may have known something about the process or the greater system that made the suggestion problematic beyond politics and only gave politics as a reason because it was the easy answer rather than the accurate one. It is also possible that the idea was such that mecha far above them both had to become involved. The worker may have been told their idea was rejected, or simply assumed so, because the supervisor wished to claim the idea as his own to look good and reap the financial rewards. It is very likely that any such idea would have to be vetted by researchers, small scale testing, cost-benefit analysis and more that no worker is aware of. Such large scale operations are typically very complex, something that does not filter down to the workers." He drew in a quiet vent. "The statement and my knowledge does not contain sufficient information to speculate accurately."

Optimus smiled again. "A very thorough analysis," he said with approval and noted a quick flash of surprise in the other's expression. "But the crux of the matter remains, does it not? The chances that this worker would ever have a chance of even being heard are almost nonexistent, simply because most other mecha consider themselves 'his better' simply on the ground of rank and wealth. Those factors play much too large a role in our society, when what we really should encourage and reward is skill and talent, no matter where it comes from." He ex-vented heavily. "There must be so many promising processors out there that are either kept back or never allowed to develop, crushed from the start, and that is a tragic waste Cybertron can ill afford in the long run."

"On education as well," Prowl said before he caught himself, then continued. "I agree with the overall assertion you are making. I would question whether Cybertron could survive such a radical transformation as quickly as it would need to happen to affect what's coming."

"It is true that there are no quick or simple solutions to this problem," the Prime agreed, "but no goal with ever be achieved unless we take a first step."

Suddenly Optimus felt something stir within him and although he couldn't say with certainty whether it was the Matrix or merely some as yet unexplored part of his coding, this conversation was suddenly tagged as very important. A question appeared in his mind and he asked it without thinking."Where, in your opinion, would be the best place to start such a transformation?"

"Within what one can control already. For you, there are a significant number of things you can influence with nothing more than speaking despite the power the Senate has claimed," Prowl said.

"As for instance?"Optimus asked, taking another sip from his cube and making an effort to sound casual and not spook the Praxian into silence. He already had several ideas but knew there was bound to be options he hadn't yet thought of. Prowl _understood_ the upper echelons in a way the Prime himself did not yet do and his insight could prove to be invaluable. Much knowledge had come to Optimus with the Maxtix but knowing and understanding were still not the same thing.

"To begin with, simply make your opinions known. Not in a speech or edict, but simply in conversation and how you favor those who do as you prefer. A noble survives on the good will of his better, and you are the highest ranked noble of us all. You are also the highest ranked priest, a caste that few are willing to truly anger. It will not change how all act, but it will be noted and taken into account," Prowl began, thinking as he spoke. "A palace edict to purchase from vendors that follow your wishes the best is a very quiet thing that can ripple through the empire because of the volume that the palace purchases, and by extension the government. Use your influence as the Prime of Cybertron," he carefully emphasized the religious nature of the title, "to spread your message through the priesthood and favor the Barasi that do so and the cities that are brought in line the best. I have not studied the laws regarding the Prime's authority in detail. I am sure there are more options. Even as a figurehead, you are still Primus given frame, our living god."

Optimus listened and felt a smile grow on his lips. It warmed his spark to hear someone not only speak about change with some enthusiasm - as opposed to the general denial of there even being a problem that he'd encountered everywhere else since becoming Prime - but also have tangible, feasible ideas for what to do. Most nobles and senators only used that kind of constructive thinking when it came to improving their own situation or expand their fortunes. It also amused Optimus that Prowl had, though perhaps unwittingly, acknowledged the truth that everyone knew but no-one spoke of, especially not to him: that the Prime was more of a figurehead than an actual leader.

It only strengthened Optimus's feeling that this mech was important and after checking a few things in his archived data banks he made his decision. "Would you be interested in helping me make those things happen?"

"Yes, Optimus." Prowl answered without hesitation. "In what manner would you claim me?"

"There are a few different options, depending on what you want," Optimus replied, making sure to stress that he considered Prowl's own opinions important. He then asked as tactfully as he could, "would I be correct in assuming that the bond that has been arranged for you is not entirely to your liking?"

"Lord Rimfire is not an undesirable mech," Prowl said carefully. "I do not expect to be challenged at his estate."

Optimus could not hold back a chuckle. "Meaning you expect to be bored out of your processor," he said, his interpretation confirmed by the slightly embarrassed look flashing across Prowl's face. "Nevertheless, if for some reason you do want that bonding contract I could contact Lord Rimfire after all the formalities have been concluded and request your presence at the palace to work for me. That would give you a certain status and also a position that is not directly tied to me."

"The alternative is that you stay with me, officially as my companion. There seems to be ample precedence for this in connection with the Primal Blessing, and while it's not an overly glamorous position it is a reasonably safe and respected one and your spark would still be yours. In the past the term companion has usually been synonymous with concubine, of course, and many will as likely as not still interpret it that way, but please understand that that is not the kind of arrangement I am suggesting. I am not looking for a berth warmer; I want someone I can talk to, who I can be honest and open with and who in turn is honest and open with me. Someone who will help me do what's best for _all of Cybertron_ and not just the elite."

He paused for a moment to study Prowl, contemplating what he'd learned and deduced about the mech so far. "Technically I could claim you as a consort instead, which would increase your status significantly. It would however come at the price of a lot more restrictions and attention directed at you from allies and enemies alike, and make it much more difficult for you to actually get anything worthwhile done."

Prowl gave a thoughtful hum and delved through what he knew of this new Prime and of Lord Rimfire. The first was offering him something to do, but outside of any convention Prowl really understood. The other offered safety in the known, but would be an existence without accomplishment. Yet in the appealing offer was the huge risk that the Prime was putting on a display for him, seeking to tempt him. The only part that indicated he wasn't was that he had no need to. The Prime had all the authority he wished to do anything he wanted to or with Prowl.

With all that sorted and calculated as best Prowl was able, he dipped his doorwings in acceptance. "I would be your companion. Being mistaken for a concubine or berth warmer does not bother me. My status as Lord Rimfire's second bonded would be only slightly better."

Optimus's spark made a small leap of joy in his chest but he forced himself to remain calm and met the Praxian's gesture with a nod of his own. "Very well. I know you have no reason to trust me yet, Prowl, and no word or formal document I can give you will do much to change that. I hope you will be able to feel my sincerity as we merge sparks tonight but if there is anything else I can do to make you feel less uncomfortable with this situation, now or later, please tell me."

Prowl paused and thought about it for a lengthy half klik. "It would be easier for me if you felt comfortable enough to be in charge," he ducked his face slightly. "I don't really know what to do beyond laying there."

Optimus smiled warmly at Prowl, finding the sudden shyness quite endearing, and although the circumstances were still far from ideal, this at least he could work with. "That I can do." He finished his cube, rose and held out his hand for Prowl. The high grade buzz was nice when it mingled across their fields was pleasant as Prowl stood and accepted the hand of his Prime.

"Thank you," Prowl hummed and followed the light guidance back to the berthroom and onto the berth.

"Are there any particular parts of your frame that are sensitive to touch or pressure beyond normal?" Optimus asked as he joined the smaller mech on the berth, careful not to loom over him or make him feel trapped.

For his part, Prowl was relaxed and far calmer about this than his Prime as he tried to offer himself in an attractive manner. "I have the standard sensors for a Praxian."

"Ah, I'm not sure what that means," Optimus admitted.

A soft smile was given for the truth. "My doorwings, particularly the outside of my alt, are very sensitive. That will be true with most doorwings and all flight frames. Praxian wheels and suspension are unusually sensitive as well."

"So this," Optimus said, running a teasing finger along the upper edge of Prowl's left doorwing, "is sensitive, hmm?" He repeated the move and smiled as the panel was raised to press against his hand. "Does that feel good?"

"Y-yes," Prowl gasped as his optics flickered. Blindly he reached for Optimus's grill and sought to return some of what he was being given with only a single finger!

"Good," Optimus purred and kept caressing the appendage with one hand even as he pushed forward and captured Prowl's lips in a gentle kiss. 

Prowl's field expressed how startled he was, though that didn't dampen the kiss he returned in the least. He was already far too aroused to think about anything but pleasuring his lover and taking in all that was being done to him.

Optimus was surprised but in no way disappointed by how enthusiastically the Praxian responded to the kiss and allowed it to deepen. He took his hand from the doorwing - which drew a small, disappointed whine from Prowl - and let it sweep over the shoulder tire and then down to explore the distinctive headlights. A moan of pleasure escaped him as Prowl's searching hand found one of his antennae and stroked it with light but slightly unsteady fingers.

The smaller frame shivered against Optimus as Prowl pressed his chest into the exploring fingers and continued to stroke the thick blue antennae.

"Mmm, that feels good," Optimus mumbled, taking his lips from Prowl's and nuzzling his helm against the other's hand for a moment before he pushed himself up a bit to help the half dazed Praxian settle on his back without twisting the sensory panels. "Is this comfortable for you?"

"Yes, Optimus," Prowl wiggled his doorwings a bit to enjoy the luxury sheets that were well beyond even his status. He thought they might even be organic, but the touching was far too distracting to care about such a detail right now.

"Good," Optimus said again, looking down at the mech and for the first time allowing himself to really take in how attractive he was. His fans kicked up a notch. "Tell me immediately if something gets uncomfortable, or if you want me to stop. Or," he continued with a smile and another teasing sweep over the surface of one of the doorwings, "if there is something you want more of."

"I will," Prowl's answer came with a quiet moan and an unconscious move towards that touch. His field was alive with the pleasure and his optics already out of focus. "It all feels good."

"That is how it should be." Optimus bent forward to kiss Prowl again and somehow managed to keep their lips connected as he swung one leg over his berthmate, taking care not to rest too much of his weight on the smaller frame. He was still a bit wary of his increased size and mass and even though he had interfaced since his upgrade that had been with courtesans, mainly for stress relief, and nothing like this.

This mech knew less than even Optimus did about how interfacing worked, though from the way Prowl's field surged with a base lust and he stretched to display himself without thinking, it seemed that he wasn't clueless so much as inexperienced. Optimus felt a surge of lust race straight down to his interface panel at the sight but he resolutely denied the request for the panel to retract. This was first and foremost about Prowl and he was not going to rush no matter how desirable and willing the mech under him was.

Resting his weight on his knees and elbows he kept stroking Prowl's doowings - he'd found a spot along the lower edge of the panels that made the Praxian moan and shiver in the most delightful way - even as his lips left Prowl's again and he started kissing and nibbling his way down the sleek black and white frame. Prowl's field roared at him, and with the first touch to the chest plates they parted eagerly.

The reaction made Optimus hesitate for a moment. He had admittedly not expected that to happen for a while yet but there was no denying the desire and want in the Praxian's field or the eagerness in the hands stroking Optimus's chest plates. He lowered himself a bit further and placed a kiss on the glittering crystal spark chamber itself. The iris opened just as eagerly as the outer chest plates had, bringing Prowl's spark fully into view, and Optimus felt humbled beyond words that a mech that wasn't designed specifically for interfacing would trust him so easily. For a moment he lost himself in the beautifully shimmering light of the Praxian's spark and the delicate-looking spherical grid structure that surrounded it, proving that this spark had never been touched by another. The sparklight was almost white with just the faintest shade of blue and Optimus found it surprising that Prowl's creator had not sent him to a temple to become a priest when Prowl had proven to be difficult.

An impatient whimper and a moaned "please!" brought Optimus back to the task at hand and he let his lips touch the rim of the spark chamber again. Instead of kissing he hummed this time, letting the vibrations travel from his lip plates to the crystalline chamber. Prowl gasped and Optimus felt a shiver run all the way through the frame beneath him. He smiled and repeated the sound, savoring the sounds of pleasure it drew from the delightfully responsive Praxian.

Finally the demand in his own spark to stop teasing it with such a needy one so close drew Optimus back and he pushed himself up again and let his own chest plates retract, exposing not only his spark but the Matrix as well.

Prowl's optics were as unfocused as his thoughts, already lost in the heady combination of the large mech above him and the unique rainbow light of a Prime's spark. A small part of him tried to actually take in the fact that this was the Prime, a spark that was said to be directly connected to Primus in ways no others were, and that he, Prowl, was actually beholding the great Matrix of Leadership with his very own optics, but all coherent thought was swept away by the burning desire and _need_ that rushed through his frame and spark.

The larger mech lowered himself once more, his chest aligned with Prowl's. Then the first connection was established, a single leader reaching out through the grid of the spark seal, and the world tilted.

Optimus let his spark reach out further, strengthening the connection between the two orbs of energy. He felt how the spark seal rapidly started to dissolve as the presence of his own spark disturbed the electromagnetic field that had created it and kept it in place. Within a twenty nanokliks it was completely gone and Optimus's arms almost gave at the intensity of the now completely unobstructed feedback from the smaller mech's spark. What doubts he'd still had about whether Prowl truly wanted this were washed away by the rush of energy and emotion and he allowed himself to relax and sink deeper into the pleasure merge. Quite apart from the physical pleasure it was also wonderful to feel inside his spark just how truthful Prowl's statement about his attractiveness was and how little it had to do with being Prime. Prowl was simply attracted to significantly larger mecha, and Optimus's respectful way of treating him had only served to strengthen that desire.

That was about as far as Optimus's thoughts went before Prowl's much smaller spark exploded in an overload that surged across every possible connection between them. The charge danced in Optimus's chest as the ecstasy of Prowl's overload washed over and into him. It was not enough to push him over the same edge given his much larger mass but it felt amazing and he relished in the other's unadulterated pleasure. It felt so honest, so genuine and without a hint of deception or hidden purpose.

Not even the courtesans were quite this free of alternative motive. They had only good intentions, only wished to please and enjoy it, but it was still their function.

As Prowl came back to himself, though still dazed, he was purring deeply. After a brief moment he managed to focus his pale optics to look up at Optimus. "You have not overloaded."

Optimus smiled down at him. "This is meant to be for you, Prowl," he said, stroking one of the fanned out doorwings. "Feeling your pleasure is quite enough for me." He began to push himself up to shift more of his weight off the Praxian but stopped when he saw the hesitant look on Prowl's face. "Yes?"

"I ... I like bringing a crystal overload," Prowl said hesitantly with a mixture of daring to say it and wanting it.

The tacit request made Optimus smile again, secretly delighted that Prowl felt safe enough to voice his desire. He kissed the smaller mech's lips once more before speaking. "I think your spark needs some time to recover but you are welcome to touch if you want to." In a fit of playfulness he flipped their positions with a quick maneuver that drew a surprised yelp from Prowl, and once comfortably on his back he allowed his chest plates, which had closed as soon as the merge ended, to retract again in an invitation for the smaller mech to explore.

The awe the flashed across Prowl's expression and field was bright and honest, but to Optimus's relief it did not last long. Desire and the desire to please quickly overwhelmed everything else in Prowl as he reached forward to caress the iris rim with a steady light touch that not only made Optimus's spark swell with pleasure but gave Prowl a solid read on its resonant frequency.

Optimus's cooling fans hitched up a level and he allowed himself to sink into the feeling of the gentle fingers caressing his most intimate components. His field pulsed with arousal and approval and for once he didn't bother to rein it in at all. He understood very well the appeal of giving pleasure as well as receiving it and wanted Prowl to be able to feel just how good this felt for him. 

In return for showing his pleasure so well Optimus received the wealth of pleasure that it caused Prowl. Emotional joy filled Prowl's field as he continued to touch with controlled pressure that showed some training and a lot of enjoyment.

Optimus moaned and stopped resisting the urge to arch his back and press his chest further into Prowl's touch. He felt flashes of current dance across his chamber as the Praxian lifted his fingers and moved them _just_ above the crystal surface, letting the almost-touch build potential.

Oh yes, this mech had definitely had some training in tactile sparkplay.

"That... feels... amazing," Optimus managed to press out, his frame vibrating with building charge.

"Good," Prowl purred with all the joy it brought him to feel, see and teek the pleasure he caused. It was so much better when he genuinely like the one he was tending.

The minor part of Optimus's processor that was still rational decided that he really liked the purring sound Prowl made when he was happy and the teek that matched it. Then all thought left him as those clever fingers touched the iris rim again and his spark chamber spiraled open, once more bathing the Praxian in iridescent light. He gasped at the intensity of the pleasure and the faint hint of Prowl's spark energy when one finger gently dipped inside his chamber to caress the multicolored corona.

"Yess," he moaned and his arms moved as if on autopilot to grip Prowl's hips, although he couldn't have said himself if it was to ground himself or to urge the Praxian to stay where he was.

Not that the smaller mech seemed to have any plans to leave.

Two more fingers slid almost teasingly along the inner edge of the rim before jointing their companion in their light dance over Optimus's spark. A dip lower to brush just over the pure white light core and Optimus roared, his optics bleaching out completely as the huge gathering of energy by his spark surged through every system in his frame.

Overload struck hard and swept all his senses with it. All thoughts, worries, duties and responsibilities faded and for a brief moment pleasure and peace was all that existed. 

As Optimus drifted back pleasantly to awareness he first noticed that he was alone on the berth and wondered where Prowl was. Struggling to bring his still slightly dizzy processor into focus he finally managed to find the command that onlined his optics. The sight that greeted him instantly washed away the pleasant haze and for a moment he could only stare at the scene in front of him.

Two mechs wearing the symbols of the Primal guard stood in the middle of the room. One of them held Prowl in an iron grip and the other had a gun pointed at the Praxian's helm. Prowl was completely lax in their grip and didn't seem damaged.

"What is the meaning of this?" Optimus demanded as he sat up. He wondered briefly if the guards might be imposters, disguised assassins or something similar but rapidly dismissed that thought as he realized he recognized them both.

"My Lord Prime, we were told by the chief of security to intervene," the guard with the gun said. "He said the mech in your company posed a serious threat to your spark and had to be removed from your person. Has he hurt you, or threatened you in any way?"

Optimus suddenly felt a profound desire to bang his helm against the wall in exasperation.

"No. Prowl is my guest. I was enjoying his attention," Optimus kept the details limited, least he let things slip that he shouldn't yet. "I _suggest_ you release him, now." He rose to his full height and did his best not to glare too fiercely at the two bodyguards. They weren't the ones with access to a video feed of his berthroom; they'd only done their duty and acted on orders. Chief Officer Sentry, on the other hand, was definitely going to hear about this.

The guards exchanged a quick glance. Optimus suspected they had been told not to 'allow the Prime to make any foolish decisions regarding his safety' and were now debating whether this fell into that category or not.

"Sir..." one of them began hesitantly, "I'm sorry but I will have to have that request approved by Officer Sentry."

Optimus huffed audibly and grumbled silently as he waited to find out how irritated he was going to be with his Chief of Security. Only the fact that Prowl was calm and relaxed kept things from escalating.

It seemed to take an eternity and Optimus would have been willing to give quite a lot to be able to hear what was said but finally the guard holding Prowl released his grip and let the Praxian go.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding, My Lord Prime," the other guard said formally as he subspaced his weapon.

"I'm not sure I am the one you should be apologizing to," Optimus replied drily. "It was not me you pulled out of berth and held at gunpoint."

The mech at least had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Of course," he said and turned with a stiff bow towards Prowl. "We offer our apologies for the rough handling, mylord."

"Accepted," Prowl dipped his doorwings faintly in a mark of his greater rank. "I am aware you were only following orders."

Both guards bowed and turned to leave but just as they reached the door the one who had spoken stiffened and turned back with a slightly pained expression on his face.

"Ahem..." he started, suddenly looking like he wanted to sink through the floor, "um, officer Sentry wants me to tell... ask you not to bare your spark again until your... guest has been vetted by him personally."

Optimus suddenly had to struggle to keep his face straight. While it annoyed him that Sentry tried to impose safety regulations even on this part of his life, never mind force that poor guard to deliver such a message instead of just opening a direct comm. line with Optimus himself, the whole situation was so absurdly ludicrous that Optimus almost burst out laughing. "You may tell Sentry that I have received the message," he said, promising nothing, "and that I will have word with him regarding this - personally - tomorrow. Also," he added when he saw how the guard suddenly tensed even further and looked scared, "know that I do not blame you two for this misunderstanding. You performed your task admirably given the information you had."

The guard mumbled a "thank you, My Lord Prime," bowed once more and then fled - there was no other word for it - the room.

"Of all I thought could happen this night, that was not on the list," Prowl's deadpan statement was rich with humor in his field as he climbed back onto the berth. "You are an exceptionally kind master, my Lord Prime," he purred praise that hid little of how desirable he found it.

Optimus, relieved that Prowl was not upset and had chosen to see the whole thing from the humorous side, finally allowed himself a grin and a chuckle. "Well," he said, joining Prowl on the berth again, "I will confess it wasn't on mine either. And I _am_ going to have a serious talk with my Chief of Security about it tomorrow. He's the one responsible for this, so there was no reason to get angry at the guards." His face turned serious for a moment. "Are you okay? They didn't hurt you in any way?"

"I am unharmed, Optimus," Prowl promised as he snuggled up to his Prime. "I heard them come in. I had time to relax and comply."

"Good," Optimus said, obligingly caressing the doorwing that _just happened_ to twitch in the vicinity of his hand. He smiled at the Praxian's contented purring; it really was an altogether adorable sound. "Personally I was a bit too distracted to notice anything at all, for some reason." He revved his engine playfully and gave Prowl's chevron a careful nibble. "Thank you."

Prowl was lost to anything but delighted moan for a moment.

"I'm pleased you enjoyed it, my Prime," he managed to turn the title into an endearment as he reached to stroke wide abdominal plating without moving any part of him that was being touched.

Optimus hummed in approval as Prowl's fingers found their way into a gap between two plates in his side and stroked the cables beneath. The hum turned into a moan when a particularly sensitive spot was found and treated with more dedicated attention. "Am I to interpret this to mean that you wish to continue where we left off?" he asked even as his right hand left the doorwing and traced a line from Prowl's left shoulder wheel and down to his waist. He would not go further without explicit permission.

"Yes," Prowl pressed into the roving touch shamelessly. 

Optimus smiled and allowed his hand to slide further down, coming to rest on the Praxian's hip. His fingers teased an almost invisible transformation seam while his thumb gently dug its way into the gap between hip and thigh plating. Prowl gasped at the sensation and Optimus took the opportunity to capture the parted lips in a kiss. Prowl parted them further, willing submission in the motion, and that of spreading his legs a bit further to open his armor up for Optimus's touch.

The Prime took the invitations for what they were and deepened the kiss, bringing his glossa into the game. His hand kept caressing the inside of Prowl's thigh and the exposed cabling, occasionally letting a ghost of a touch brush over the Praxian's rapidly heating interface array. It was only a few strokes before the protective armor slipped open and he felt an interfacing seal for the first time. It had a rubbery surface with a slight give but felt sturdy enough that Optimus felt a hint of worry that he wouldn't be able to break it without causing pain.

Interfacing seals was another of those things he'd of course heard of but never really thought about. Normal mechs' seals were removed by the medic who performed the mechling upgrades, just like any other protective cover on new components, but as usual the higher castes had decided to complicate things. Given how much weight the nobility gave the concept of virginity - even so much as to let it dictate someone's worth - letting the seals remain after the mechling upgrades may of course be considered logical but Optimus still found the whole idea rather weird.

Which in no way affected his determination to make this as pleasant as possible for Prowl. He went over the process he'd found once more and it was easy at least. Apply the special paste and give oral.

He made a quick scan of the area around the berth but found no tube or bottle that seemed likely to contain the softening salve he would need. Somewhat annoyed by the distraction - his staff knew better than he did what was going on and should have prepared for it - he opened a comm to Meso Garda, who almost seemed to have been expecting the call given how quickly he replied.

::Yes, my Lord Prime?:: the medic asked.

::I need seal paste,:: Optimus said, making sure not to let too much of his attention stray from kissing and caressing Prowl. ::Do you know if it has been prepared somewhere?::

::I left a jar in your nightstand drawer, my Prime,:: Meso Garda responded, and with less stiffness and snark than usual.

::Good, thank you,:: Optimus replied and cut the comm. With one last swirl of his glossa he broke the kiss and reached for the nightstand. The drawer opened as soon as he touched it and he quickly found what he was looking for. He teeked Prowl's mild surprise, then the soft wash of warmth in the field mingling with his own before arousal dominated again.

"I'll need to apply some salve to soften the seals," Optimus said by way of explanation. He had little doubt that the Praxian already knew that but felt the need to say something. Soft affection and thanks flared across their fields as Prowl stretched upwards for a kiss and reached to Optimus's lap to tease his spike cover in question.

"Not quite yet," Optimus replied to the unspoken question, even though the soft touch sent a surge of desire through him. The kiss was a welcome distraction and he allowed himself to sink fully into it for a moment before moving on. He guided his lover to his back and relished the surges of arousal Prowl had when his larger frame was over his. Another kiss while he snaked a hand between them to stroke Prowl's spike seal was rewarded with a moan and shiver. Without breaking the kiss he managed to coat his middle finger with the seal-softening paste and gently began massaging it into the rubbery surface.

Prowl gasped and pressed his hips up as comprehension at why this was such a desirable place to touch flared though him. He tried to continue to touch this wonderful Prime, but his ability to focus on anything beyond the building, blinding, all-consuming pleasure between his legs didn't last long.

The seal gradually grew softer and more pliant, affected by the chemicals in the salve as well as the increasing heat of the metal around it, and Optimus decided it was time to move on to the next step. His lip plates left Prowl's and he pushed himself backwards, kissing various parts of the Praxian's frame on the way, until his face was level with the black and white mech's interface array. From this angle he could see what he'd felt, the tip of Prowl's spike, a glittering gold plated cone, was pressing against the seal.

Prowl's field was a wild cacophony of surges of arousal, pleasure and not-quite-pain. His moans and frame was focused completely on the pleasure though as white hands reached down to stroke Optimus's finials in mute encouragement to _do_ something.

Willingly acquiescing, the Prime lowered his helm and placed his mouth over the bulging seal. Using his glossa he caressed its edges, prompting a half-stifled squeal from Prowl at this new sensation so very near the tip of his aching, straining spike. It drew panting gasps from Prowl with each circling pass of Optimus's glossa and each surge of arousal-pleasure pushed Prowl's hips up into the contact.

Only a few more circles and the seal began to shred under the working glossa and the internal pressure of Prowl's spike pressing upwards as it pressurized. Hoping to make this particular part of the process as quick as possible Optimus pressed his lips more firmly against the spike housing and sucked, hard.

A scream of pleasure, only faintly colored by pain, left Prowl's vocalizer as the seal finally gave completely and his spike extended into the welcoming soft wetness of Prime's mouth. Even as Prowl jerked sharply from the shift in sensations Optimus began to work the freshly released spike with his glossa and lips and teeked the intensifying shock in Prowl's field as it sank in that the sensations he'd already experienced were only the beginning and not an overload.

Smiling inwardly Optimus hummed, letting the vibrations travel from his lip plates into the spike between them. The reaction was most satisfying as the Praxian gasped and his hips moved as if on autopilot, desperate for _more._ Prowl's pristine white hands roamed and gripped anything in reach at random, unsure what to do with half his his frame that didn't have scripted instructions.

It didn't take more than a few bobbing sucks before Prowl bowed off the berth with a scream of bliss as the first shot of transfluid through his spike pumped into Optimus's mouth. The Prime welcomed the release and kept stroking the spike with his glossa all the way through the smaller mech's overload, carefully teeking Prowl's field for signs of anything other than pleasure. He knew the lack of control such an intense release caused might frighten some mecha but he was pleased to find nothing but amazement and blissed out satisfaction with a thick underlying of trust.

Gradually Prowl came back to reality and realized he was absently petting the Prime's long finial. He instinctively stopped for a moment, struggling to collect enough focus to ascertain whether the touch was appreciated or not, but relaxed and resumed the light strokes when he saw Optimus smile.

"Everything okay?" the larger mech asked, leaning into the caressing hand as he spoke.

"That felt amazing," Prowl murmured as he finished collecting himself. "How is your charge?"

"Manageable," Optimus replied, pushing himself forward a bit to place a gentle kiss on the Praxian's bumper. Prowl's engine gave a turn before Prowl drew his Prime further up for a lingering kiss while the other hand slid down, between them, to tease at the edge of Optimus's spike cover.

Optimus moaned into the kiss and his engine rumbled at the touch to his panel. His interfacing protocols had been pinging him to release his spike for a while now but he had refused the requests so far, still cautious about pushing Prowl too far too fast.

"Please. Even if you don't take my last seal right now, allow me touch," Prowl said softly.

Not quite trusting his voice to carry Optimus nodded and finally let his spike cover retract. His spike pressurized immediately and the large mech felt his arms tremble as Prowl's teasing fingers moved from the array to the spike itself. Each tiny movement and pressure sent a jolt of molten lighting through the Prime's frame and aroused Prowl further.

"Suitably magnificent," Prowl purred deeply as he caressed the tip with his fingers and indulged in calculating the exact size and shape from nothing but his fingertips.

Optimus tried to think of a response to that statement but lost track of that intention when Prowl's hand closed gently around his spike, fingers moving in a rippling pattern.

"Relax. Let me take care of you," Prowl forcibly stopped himself from the reflexive 'my lord' he was trained to say. "I want to watch you overload."

Optimus forced himself to focus beyond the sensations from his spike for a moment, to watch and teek for any sign that this was duty speaking instead of desire, but when he found none he nodded and allowed himself to be guided by Prowl's gentle touch onto his back so the Praxian could lay next to him. Snuggled close together, Optimus drank in the warmth of Prowl's desire, building arousal and interest while Prowl's fingers explored the long, thick and ridiculously ornate spike with none of the discomfort Optimus originally had with the ostentatious display.

The touches were gentle but still firm enough to be pleasant rather than teasing, and it struck Optimus that Prowl had probably had some schooling in the art of pleasing his bondmate, even with his seals intact. A brief flicker of unease went through him again at the thought that this was something the Praxian would have been expected to do, willing or not, but after teeking the smaller mech's field yet again he pushed those thoughts away and locked them down. Prowl had been nothing but curious and eager since the initial misunderstanding had been cleared up, and Optimus's had to start trusting the mech's judgment.

With a silent glare at one of the hidden surveillance cameras - he knew there were several but had only spotted one so far - he sent a short reminder to Security to _stay away_ this time before he let himself relax fully, prepared to welcome whatever pleasure Prowl was willing to give him. It felt good, with sparks of feeling great, as Prowl's inquisitive touch translated what he knew into what really worked for his lover. It teeked and even felt so different from those who'd shared his berth before. Whether a courtesan or noble, the skill was amazing, but the personal interest was lacking, even among those whose very sparks adored their function of giving pleasure.

The first real moan Prowl drew out caused a spike of excitement in the Praxian and he repeated that movement with a bit more attention. Optimus moaned again and automatically moved his hips into the touch, tacitly asking for more and was given it with a flash of pleasure in Prowl's field. As the pleasure build Prowl shifted to sit upright and used both hands, then his hands and mouth around the elaborate conical tip of spongy metal.

Optimus's engine revved and he had to struggle not to buck up too hard as he felt Prowl's lips close around the tip of his spike. It was torture and bliss all at once, and the content purring of the Praxian's systems only served to ramp up the charge even further. This was as close to a real lover as he'd had as Prime, and it drew of sensation memories of a prior life when there were no politics involved in his existence. He couldn't manage for long though, and when his hips finally did jerk up Prowl's helm moved with the motion as the tip pressed up against his intake.

Even before Optimus could formulate an apology Prowl moved off the tip and replaced his mouth with a hand, rubbing and pressing against the head while his lips and glossa joined his other hand on the shaft.

"Sorry," Optimus groaned in between labored ventilations, "I did not mean-" He got no further than that before Prowl started moving his hands again, no longer merely stroking but working the spike with shifting grip and flexing fingers. The sensation was similar to that of an overloading valve and sent Optimus's charge skyrocketing. When Prowl's glossa found the tip of the spike again, teasing it with quick, light licks, Optimus could no longer hold back. His hips bucked up with a roar of his engine and vocalizer to match. The crackling bursts of fluid landed on his armor and splashed onto Prowl until Optimus was flat on his back, panting and dazed. 

Floating in the afterglow he had a few moments of perfect peace, unstained by responsibilities, politics and duty. He was just an ordinary mech sharing pleasure with someone who enjoyed giving it. He was distantly aware of being cleaned up with a cloth, but the teek of it was so much like a lover indulging him he didn't think to question it until he'd finally drifted all the way to reality and saw Prowl finishing cleaning his hands.

"You needed that," Prowl purred with a bit of a smile as he leaned forward for a soft kiss.

Optimus smiled back at him. "I did. Thank you," he said and willingly accepted the kiss. Once their lips parted again he continued with a humorous glint in his optics. "At least we weren't interrupted this time."

"True. Energon?" Prowl managed an actual chuckle and it drew a brighter smile from Optimus.

"Mmm, yes," Optmius agreed and heaved himself up to a sitting position and followed Prowl off the berth. His smile widened as the Praxian stretched in a way looked way too sensual to be a mere coincident. "Tease," he muttered, the affectionate undertones taking every sting out of the accusation.

"Only if I have no intention of following through," Prowl winked over his shoulder before pouring two goblets of fine high grade. "How do you like yours?" he asked politely.

"Sweet," Optimus replied, then added with a self-deprecating chuckle: "as in ridiculously sweet by most grown mecha's standards."

Prowl gave a hum and stirred two scoops of sweetener in, then offered it to Optimus for assessment.

Optimus sipped the brew and considered for a moment to leave it as it was before remembering that one of the points of this deal with Prowl was to have someone to be 100% himself around. Hiding his tastes in energon would be a very stupid place to start. "Just a little more?" he said and almost slapped himself for sounding embarrassingly much like a sparkling pleading for a treat.

"Of course," Prowl agreed without any of the disdain most nobles had towards strongly sweetened energon. "We will not easily mix our energon up. I prefer mine nearly as acidic as you like it sweet," he explained as he added a half-scoop and stirred it in before handing it back.

"My tanks never handled acidic well when I was young and the apprehension has stuck with me ever since," Optimus admitted as he took his energon and sipped it appreciatively. "Is there anything in the selection strong enough for you or are there other additives you would prefer?"

"These will mix into my preferences," Prowl assured him as he finished mixing his drink and sank down onto the couch next to his Prime.

They drank in companionable silence for a klik, fields relaxed and pleasantly interlaced, and Optimus marveled at how much at peace he found himself, more than he could remember at any point since his elevation. He was certain it wasn't just thanks to the overloads, pleasant though they had been. No, it was something about this Praxian that simply felt _right_ and he really hoped this new path they had sketched for Prowl would be one he could find meaning in.

"Would you tell me something about yourself?" Optimus finally asked, subharmonics making it clear that the question was one of friendly curiosity and nothing else.

"There is little that is not in my official file," Prowl warned even as he pulled up the few things that might not have made it in. "Most of my kin will function well without learning from my compulsion to question and learn and know. It is a dangerous trait for many. A noble that questions too much is unlikely to have creations approved. The system is designed to protect itself. New ideas must go through the proper channels or is it civil disobedience and often punished harshly."

"What were you stopped from doing?" Optimus prodded gently.

"My education. The function I desired to peruse, though I knew even then that I could never be official," Prowl worked through the emotional tumble revisiting the moments caused. "I am not creative, per se, but I have long enjoyed working to create something better when given a base."

"That is a trait that will be extremely useful in you function here," Optimus said, clearly projecting his approval. "And unofficial though it may be, no line of education will be closed for you. Are there any fields in particular that attract your interest?"

"History, mathematics, physics, economics, law, city management ... though I believe much of it could be smelted down to probability, pattern and efficiency analysis," Prowl couldn't quite hide his hope that he really would have instructors again. Ones that wouldn't give up in frustration and be done with him. "Sometimes I believe I see things in a different way that those who normally enter the fields I've tried to study."

Optimus felt his spark swell at Prowl's barely restrained enthusiasm and vowed to find the best instructors the planet had to offer. He was already convinced that this young Praxian was brighter than most, and not nurturing such a desire for knowledge would be both wasteful and cruel. "That is entirely possible," he said in reply to Prowl's last statement. "I assume the tuition you did get was based merely on your age and the perceived usefulness of those subjects to your expected function as a subordinate mate, rather than your talent?"

"Largely, though at first my creators were willing to indulge me and I had tutors beyond my needs. That ended with the fourth one to quit in frustration at my questions," he admitted quietly. "I have since learned that few who consider themselves knowledgeable in a subject tolerate being questioned or points of view they do not share."

Optimus nodded. "I have noticed the same phenomenon," he agreed. "I think that is a problem parts of academia has always had and always will have. Were all your tutors of the same ilk?"

"No, some were encouraging," Prowl didn't try to hide the smile at fond memories. "The physical sciences and practical skills where teaching is often by experiment tended to be more tolerant. I had a chemistry instructor that was particularly good that way." He frowned. "I never did learn why he left. I expect he was dismissed rather than quit."

"Quite likely, if he was encouraging your studies and curiosity in ways your creators did not appreciate. What was his name?" Optimus asked.

"Wheeljack," said the designation fondly. "I believe he was more mechanical engineer than educator, though for the physical studies there was often little difference as much teaching was done by example and experience."

Optimus made a mental note of the designation, intending to see if he could find the mech, if not for further education then at least to let Prowl meet someone he had a fond memory of. "It's surprising how those not schooled to be educators can sometimes do a better job than those who are."

"Because those intending to teach a subject rarely experience it for long," Prowl almost smiled. "The system is set up so that practical field experience is rarely required for instruction. I understand the stance in some subjects, such as mathematics, ancient history or anything theoretical. Most I do not agree with the stance on though. It was not my choice until I had creations to arrange for the education of, however."

Optimus nodded; It fitted well with his own experience. "Was creations something you were looking forward to?"

"I never thought about it," Prowl admitted with a bit of surprise. "Creations or not, or how many, was never going to be my choice. My bonded and his House determines that."

Optimus huffed but made a point of not venting his opinion of that practice further. "You will have that choice here," he said. "I don't know how much or little it means to you but I want you to know that in spite of what your official position here will be I will never expect you to create, with me or anyone else, unless it is your personal desire to do so."

Prowl nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his classical features. "I will keep that in mind as I consider the options. As of right now I can not say I have a desire either way." He shifted to look Optimus in the face plates. "Have you ever desired creations?"

Optimus sipped his energon again, considering the question. "Not desired, no," he finally replied. "Sparked mecha very rarely choose to kindle and I never even met a sparkling before I was made Prime. I knew of the concept, of course, but it was never part of my existence. As for now... I know I feel a strong urge to _protect_ whenever I see them and maybe with time that will grow into a genuine desire for creations of my own. But even if I did want it on a personal level the risks would be far too great for me to attempt it."

"In what way?" Prowl asked.

A dry smile made its way onto Optimus's lip plates. "As long as I'm Prime I intend to do everything I can to make Cybertron a better place - for _all_ mecha. That will include making a lot of very powerful mecha very upset. If I had a family they'd be constantly in the line of fire, and that is not something I would ever wish to subject a sparkling to."

"There are ways around them being in the line of fire, if you decide you want creations enough," Prowl said with a hint of knowing more than he should about it. "Nobles manage routinely."

"Routinely?" Optimus echoed with a hint of amused skepticism in his voice. "I wouldn't have thought even one such case would be possible, considering all the spying that goes on between the major Houses."

"As an archivist, did you see notice the events surrounding Lady Songnote of the House Tradewind and the House of Shining Sun?" Prowl asked.

Optimus made a quick scan of his memory banks but didn't come up with anything worth mentioning. "The name does sound vaguely familiar but I couldn't place it, no."

"It was quite the scandal nine hundred vorns ago. She was contracted to be the untouched mate of the Lord of Shinning Sun. Only it turned out that she not only had a low-class lover, but carried a sparkling by him to term and they raised it for several vorns before it was discovered. As I understand it, it was only discovered because of the physical examination required by law as the contract specified she be untouched. To hide a creation until they are a mechling is not difficult so long as you have a few mecha you trust and the skill required to ditch your guardians." Prowl elaborated.

"That may well be, but it still means you can only see your sparkling now and then and must let someone else take on the active part of a creator," Optimus argued. "I very much doubt I could do that for any longer period of time. If I ever had creations I'd want them to be part of my life, and be part of theirs."

Prowl cycled his optics, then cocked his helm as he regarded this ruler of royals. "Why?"

Optimus looked surprised, wondering for a moment how the Praxian could ask something like that, before remembering just how the families of the nobility worked.

"Sparked mecha tend to form strong personal bonds with those considered part of their cohort," he said by way of explanation. "Because of our origin we do not have families in your sense of the word; cohorts are formed by mecha who care for, trust and to some degree depend on each other. It is based entirely on who you are as an individual and has nothing to do with social positions. A central function of the cohort is to help and support members who have a hard time and, in general terms, take care of each other. A sparkling I helped create would automatically register as cohort for me, and to hand such a small and vulnerable member over to someone else to raise would be inconceivable."

Prowl hummed in acceptance and thought about it for a time. "I don't believe noble society has anything of the like. Emotions are not a valid basis for choices for most. How does one find one's cohort?"

"It depends," Optimus replied. "A batch of mecha sparked at the same time for the same purpose more often than not form a cohort from the start. The circle of mecha you work in close connection to can solidify into a cohort. Those who work alone tend to seek the company of mecha with common lifestyles or interests, which again may serve as a starting point for a cohort."

A slow nod and Prowl hummed thoughtfully once more. "What happened to yours?"

Optimus dropped his gaze with a small sound before looking up to meet Prowl's optics. "My cohort wasn't a normal one. Archivists often exist alone physically as we spend much of our existence plugged into the datanet to sift and search for things to archive. Such cohorts are rarely physical."

Prowl nodded but didn't say anything as he waited for his Prime, his new master who wasn't a master, to work through still raw emotions.

"Most are still working in their archives, in cities and even outposts all over the empire. I reached out to them, offering a transfer or help. All wished to remain where they were. I still nudge funding towards them, but I do that for the good of the archives and records more than them." Optimus managed to finish. "I miss the datanet. I don't even have the correct plugs for that station anymore."

"If it is still a loss when you have a doctor you trust, it can likely be installed," Prowl offered as he contemplated the magnitude of the loss. That wasn't the description of a job, like the estate cook, who could do some variant of it in every strata of society and in dozens of variants. That was the description of a specialty so intense there was no related function.

"Perhaps," Optimus said, "although I doubt it would be the same. I have changed a lot since then and I think I'd rather preserve my fond memories of that existence than try to re-create it and risk being disappointed when it's not as I remember it. I only hope that in time I will find this new life as fulfilling as Orion did his."

"Always a good goal," Prowl smiled softly over the last of his energon and regarded the empty goblet. "How many here do you trust?"

Another dry smile appeared on Optimus's lips. "That would depend on your definition of 'trust'," he said. 

Prowl returned the look with a knowing one. "Those you would trust your creations with."

Optimus didn't even have to consider the question. "None," he replied, a hint of loss once more coloring his voice. "I trust my security team to keep me reasonably safe and the rest of the staff to do what they're supposed to do, but I know very well that what they care about is the Prime, and not Optimus the mech. Perhaps in time things will change but from what I have seen so far I will confess I am not overly optimistic."

"Unfortunately you have no one to draw on from your prior existence, given what they were," Prowl accepted the truth and factored that into his perpetually updated calculations. "I have a few, and several more I trust enough to resist any bribery to harm me. It doesn't help you, however."

"Maybe not, but I'm still glad for your sake," Optimus said. He took a few mouthfuls of energon and gestured towards Prowl's empty goblet. "Please, help yourself if you want some more. There is no need to stand on ceremony here," he added, remembering that it was considered bad form to refill before your host did.

Prowl's doorwings gave a startled flick and he smiled shyly as he stood. "My apologies. I may take a few orns to fully integrate the standards you prefer in private," he said with the harmonics of a nearly rote response rather than one he actually felt bad for.

This time Optimus had the vantage and attention to see Prowl's actual mixture, though he noted immediately that he chose a different base and went much lighter on on the arsenic to allow the lighter flavor of the solar to still shine through. Nevertheless he made a mental note of the ingredients and proportions and stored it away for future reference. "No need to apologize," he said with a smile, "I realize this informality goes straight against everything you are used to. And ingrained habits can be hard to break."

"Indeed," Prowl smiled a bit more and sat down, intentionally snuggling up against Optimus' side. "It is much more like what I watched the servants behave like when there were no lords they knew of watching. It often seemed that their existence was more enjoyable despite all the work and lack of rights they had."

"In a way I think it may well be that it was, and is," Optimus agreed. He shifted slightly to let the Praxian rest more comfortably against him, secretly pleased at the spontaneous contact. "If the spark is correctly called, a sparked mecha can find complete satisfaction in doing the task they were commissioned for. As long as they are well treated and have a good cohort, many of them don't want more than that. How many nobles can you mention who have that level of contentment in their lives?"

"Young third creations and the very powerful," Prowl chuckled. "Neither of which need to worry much about politics."

"True," Optimus agreed. "And politics is, of course, the source of all evil on Cybertron." He kept his voice serious but he field flickered in amusement as he delivered the somewhat edited version of the senate's favorite gripe that 'upstart low castes are the source of all evil on Cybertron."

"I couldn't agree more, except perhaps for greed," Prowl hummed and sipped his cube. "You are very different from most Primes."

Optimus smiled. "Given what I know of most of my predecessors I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as such," Prowl tipped his helm and stretched to nuzzled as close to Optimus's neck as he could.

Optimus's engine, although unable to produce the same soft purring as Prowl's, rumbled gently as he put his arm around the smaller mech. "You are quite a cuddler, aren't you?" he said with unmistakable approval, even as he lowered his helm slightly to place a hint of a kiss on the nearest tip of the Praxian's chevron.

Prowl tipped into the touch as his engine gave a bit deeper a purr. "So I have been told," he chuckled a bit. "It comes with being tactile and unable to interface."

"Well, it _is_ pleasant, with or without interfacing," Optimus said, grinning as the Praxian shifted positions slightly for the third time, somehow managing to press even closer. Prowl's behavior suddenly reminded the Prime of an overly social cybercat and Optimus had to chuckle at the thought. "Are you trying to crawl in under my plating?" he said teasingly.

"Mmm, I like that idea, though I'd like you under mind more," Prowl's purr and field took on an unmistakably amours harmonic as he finally made it onto Optimus's lap and straddled the larger mech's hips. "You made the first two so very pleasant."

"Is that so?" Optimus purred, putting down his mostly empty goblet to focus fully on the mech on his lap. He pressed a kiss on the center of Prowl's gleaming red chevron and put his arms around the smaller mech's waist to pull him closer. Prowl willingly, eagerly melted into the embrace and pressed his desire into his field as he thrust his field deep into his lover's chassis.

"Yes," Prowl moaned and rubbed shamelessly against the silver and red pelvic girdle with its dark blue spike cover.

"So eager," Optimus teased, wriggling his hips in reply even as one hand searched, found and took full advantage of that extra sensitive spot along the lower edge of Prowl's left doorwing. The Praxian moaned again, a shiver running through his entire frame, and Optimus felt his own frame react to the obvious pleasure and desire in the other's frame and field. "Then I suppose we had better move this back to the berth." Tightening his grip somewhat he rose from the couch with Prowl still in his arms. The Praxian - once he realized his lover had no intention of putting him down to walk for himself - wrapped his legs around Optimus's waist and his arms around the broad red shoulders, even managing to initiate a kiss as he was carried into the berthroom. The contact was only broken when Prowl was laid gently on his back and Optimus straitened to reach the salve that would soften the final seal.

By the time Optimus knelt on the berth, salve in hand, Prowl had spread himself out, doorwings and raised knees, in a plea as much as an offer. His valve cover was already open and the array hot. Again Optimus was struck by how incredibly good it felt to teek the other mech's unrestrained field and open desire, and for a moment he allowed himself to simply bask in the sensation. He bent down to kiss Prowl again and did not miss the surge in the Praxian's field as the larger frame came to loom over him. The size difference that some mecha would find intimidating Prowl seemed to relish in the extreme. It was a difference that Optimus enjoyed, as was the way it enticed Prowl to reach up to stroke his grill.

"Please..." Prowl shivered and rolled his hips up.

Optimus's engine gave a deep rumble in response to Prowl's eagerness and obligingly he let his attention shift downwards. Moving his hand in between the Praxian's legs he let one finger gently trace the rim of the sealed valve. The surge of pleasure in Prowl's field was all it took to know the young mech was ready. The way his hips rolled into the touch spoke even more to his desire, as did the warmth of lubricant pooling behind the seal.

A half-strangled cry escaped the Praxian as Optimus started applying the comparatively cold salve, rubbing it into the surface of the seal. It was a maddening sensation for Prowl, feeling something move _so close_ to where his frame obviously wanted it to be and yet not satisfying the burning need in his array to be full. His hips bucked again, pleading for _more_.

"Easy," Optimus said, using one hand to keep Prowl's hips from moving too much. "We must not proceed too quickly or I may hurt you."

"Apologies," Prowl gasped out and bit his lower lip to help him focus past the blinding demands of his frame until his lover deemed him ready. He was trembling, rubbing his hands blindly against the large frame above him and panting his frame to help dissipate the heat of arousal by forcing a greater air flow with moving armor. The visual of the big mech kneeling between his spread legs was nearly as intense as the pleasure of the large glossa swirling and stroking the seal.

The charge surged and ebbed, each peak driving the ebb higher until his own keen of bliss was all the Praxian could understand around the thrumming charge cascading across every circuit in his frame. It fired and cracked, scrambling his senses for a blissful klik. When his optics finally focused again Prowl looked up into his Prime's optics, the weight of the big mech over him, pressing him into the soft berth, and he felt so wonderfully full.

Optimus stayed absolutely still, giving Prowl time to come to his senses and adjust to the new sensations. The Praxian's valve was still rippling weakly around his spike, aftereffects of the overload that had masked the breaking of the seal, and Optimus felt himself tremble slightly as the teasing stimulation ramped up his own charge. His frame urged him to move and pursue the satisfaction of overload for himself but he resolutely denied its requests. Things had gone well so far but given the size discrepancy he knew he could very easily hurt his lover and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

When his coordination returned enough, Prowl reached up to draw his lover down for a kiss and rocked his hips just enough to encourage the movement they both wanted. "You won't damage me."

Accepting and returning the kiss Optimus slowly started moving, first gyrating his hips and then, when the response he got was all favorable, pulled out slightly and slowly pushed back in, still mindful of Prowl's reactions. One thrust became two, three and four, the Praxian's frame eagerly meeting him every time. A needy whine and a mumbled "please!" between kisses made the larger mech's engine rev hard and he added a little more force to his thrusts. He was rewarded by a throaty moan and felt Prowl's arms grip him tighter, as if trying to draw him even deeper.

It was blissful even with his care and self control, in no small part from knowing that Prowl wasn't responding from code or perceived obligation, but genuine pleasure and desire that had nothing to do with the title of the one interfacing with him. Every movement Prowl moved with, his calipers and valve lining and platelets all working to entice the most charge from them both. Optimus let his optics go offline, focusing solely on the touch and teek of his partner and the wonderful friction between their lips and arrays as they moved faster and faster, pushing towards overload. Hot air streamed from both mechs' vents, cooling systems struggling to keep pace with the rising charge.

Under him, Prowl's charge surged one last time and the Praxian screamed in absolute bliss. The smaller mech's frame arched as his valve clamped down on Optimus's spike, pulling the Prime along over the edge, and for a moment nothing existed but blinding, all-consuming ecstasy.

As Optimus drifted back to reality and awareness of his frame, he first noted that his lover was out cold. He was not surprised; even with the extra fuel they'd had, so many overloads were bound to take their toll on anyone's systems, especially someone so new to the experience.

Very carefully he withdrew, noticing how Prowl's interface cover automatically slid back in place to cover his array, trapping the mix of lubricant and transfluid inside. For a moment Optimus considered cleaning them both up, but he felt recharge tug at him and the berth looked too comfortable to resist. Curling up on his side he pulled the Praxian into his arms and triggered his own recharge protocols, powering down with the contented purring of Prowl's engine in his audios.


	2. An Orn to Remember

Optimus began to rouse, feeling rested and content despite the unusual number of fields mingled with his own. It wasn't long before he was aware enough to realize one of those fields, the least familiar, was highly aroused, but the other two were calm. It didn't take long for him to place the fields of his courtesans, Maylan and Lytan. A little longer and he placed the aroused one as Prowl and that Lytan was snuggled against his back while Maylan was a bit further away, likely on the far side of Prowl.

Checking his chronometer he realized he still had a few breems before he had to get up so he allowed his boot sequence to take its time. If pushed, he'd been told, he could now go from deep recharge to full awareness in just over ten nanokliks without suffering any real damage but there was no reason for such haste and he privately enjoyed this semi-online state before the weight of the distressed empire settled on his shoulders again.

He felt one of Lytan's hands gently rub his back and pushed appreciation through his field. It was a caring touch, not intended to arouse, and the burgundy courtesan's field pulsed back, happy because his Prime was pleased with him. As difficult as it had been to adapt to the idea that these two had been designed and sparked solely to please him, he was grateful that they were honestly happy with their existences so far. They never left the Prime's Residence and seemed more than content to have it that way. What they did when he was gone he was only partially aware of, but so far he'd seen no indications of boredom so he didn't try to interfere in their private lives. It wasn't as if he didn't understand contentment in stillness or visual solitude.

When he finally powered up his optics enough to see he found himself looking at Prowl's pleasure-locked face. Maylan was snuggled up against the Praxian's back, his features that of focus rather than desire.

"What are you doing?" he asked the red mech, teek and subglyphs making it a simple request for information rather than a questioning of the courtesan's actions.

"His valve is sore from being stretched and new use, my Prime," he rumbled softly at the frequency that they both knew relaxed Optimus best. "The salve needs to be rubbed into the lining to work best."

A pang of guilt swept through Optimus, leaking into his field. He'd tried to be careful but the size difference between them _was_ considerable and maybe he had allowed himself to get too distracted by his own pleasure towards the end to be as gentle as he should.

"Easy, my Prime," Lytan purred from behind him. "Lord Prowl enjoyed it very much, enjoyed how big and strong you are. The ache will fade soon and not come back."

As they spoke Prowl's vents caught in a needy moan and he reached out blindly for the solid mech he knew was in front of him. Optimus caught the fumbling hands and held them, grounding the Praxian who was squirming on the berth and grinding his array against the courtesan's skillful hands, seeking more of that maddening pleasure. It amazed and fascinated the Prime that Prowl could be so relaxed and open with his pleasure even around the two mecha he'd never even seen before, but apparently their status as courtesans along with Optimus's presence was enough to satisfy the young noblemech's risk assessment coding.

"He is lovely in pleasure, isn't he my Prime?" Lytan purred just before Prowl keened his overload and part of the charge leapt to each mech touching him.

"He is," Optimus acknowledged, relishing the echo of the Praxian's overload. It spread a pleasant tingle through his frame, though not enough to stir real arousal. He smiled as Prowl scooted forwards to snuggle against his larger frame, vents still fully open to cool his systems. He placed an arm around the smaller mech, gently rubbing his lower back in the same way Lytan was doing to him, and Prowl finally onlined his optics. He still looked pleasantly dazed but returned the smile directed at him. Optimus placed a kiss on his chevron, his smile growing wider as the Praxian's contented purring grew louder. "Good morning to you."

"It is a good morning, my Prime ... Optimus," Prowl didn't quite catch himself in time. "Did you recharge well?"

"I did," Optimus replied. "And you? How do you feel?"

"Very good, Optimus," he snuggled a bit closer. "Maylan made my valve feel much better."

"Good," Prime said and just managed to stop himself from apologizing for causing the discomfort in the first place. "How about some energon, or would you prefer the washracks first?"

"Being clean sounds very good right now, Optimus," Prowl nuzzled him. "I would enjoy having energon with you as well."

"Then washracks it is." Optimus heaved himself up and off the berth, noting in passing how the two courtesans had disappeared as if into thin air once it was clear their services were no longer wanted. For a while he'd actually suspected they were fitted with cloaking devices, considering how they seemed to appear and disappear, but as he gained experience with palace servants he'd come to realize that they were just extremely good at not attracting attention unless they wanted to. It was a trait they all had in common, even the youngest of them seemed to pull it off.

Prowl got up after him, his movements smooth as a statement that he really was fine. He glanced around for the servant to take him to the visitor's quarters he expected to occupy and a stiffly formal mech of white and gold with only thin lines of red to mark him as a servant of the Prime stepped forward with a bow.

"If Lord Prowl will follow me," the seneschal solicited.

"That will not be necessary, Dreamcatcher," Optimus said with a polite but dismissive gesture. " _Prowl,_ " he continued, adding a subglyph to the name that marked Prowl as more than a mere visitor without specifying exactly what, "will be seen to by my own detailers."

"Of course, my Prime," Dreamcatcher bowed and slipped away.

Prowl teeked mildly surprised but didn't say anything as he followed Optimus into the lavish washrack of glittering silver flecks set in imported, perfect black onyx. Half a dozen servants were ready for them, but what caught and held Prowl's immediate attention was the huge steaming pool that took up well over a third of the room. The Praxian's was careful to keep his frame and field neutral with servants nearby but his spark nevertheless made a small leap of anticipation as Optimus moved towards the pool, signaling him to follow. 

It was all the encouragement Prowl needed and it was an effort not to moan in pleasure as he sank into the hot oil. As it seeped into his frame he shivered in bliss. No matter how often he knew this pleasure it was never less than bliss.

Optimus smiled as he saw and teeked Prowl's reaction. This made one more thing they had in common. Every item on that list made him more and more glad he'd ignorantly accepted the offer. The stress of the beginning was nothing compared to the potential of the future. The work going on above and below the oil went on barely noticed until one of the servants cautiously requested that the Prime stand so they could dry and adorn him for his morning's first meeting.

He stood smoothly and walked to the spot with the perfect light and conditions for the half dozen delicate mechs of various sizes to ensure his finish was flawless, touch up any spots that 'needed' it and affix ornamentation of all manner to him until he didn't recognize himself in the reflection. Though he held still, he was aware of when Prowl left the pool only a few kliks after he did and was directed to a place near him.

"My Lord Prime, what do you wish of me this orn?" Prowl asked with all the ritual formality that could be instilled in the question despite the soft affection in their fields.

"You have an appointment with my medic Meso Garda in approximately six breems for the customary check up," Optimus replied, moving carefully as his detailers directed. "I will make sure Dreamcatcher appoints someone to meet you afterwards to escort you back here." He pulsed an apology through his field. "I do not wish to keep you confined but until your status is confirmed and recognized you should not move unescorted through the palace and the Residence should be the safest place for you until then. You can move as you please inside the Residence and anything you can access is allowed."

"Of course, my Prime," Prowl used his voice to avoid moving his frame and disturb those working on him. "Thank you for your generosity." The words were traditional but the honesty behind them was far more real than most could give.

* * *

Prowl, primped and polished to a minimum he deemed fit to be seen in public, fueled and relaxed from breakfast with the Prime, followed one of the Residence servants through a handful of wide, gloriously decorated white and gold hallways that contained few passers-by to a large double door with two medical glyphs, one of each side. The first read "Physician of the Prime" and the other "Medical" no doubt so those servants who couldn't read more than basic glyphs could find it quickly.

The servant, marked as his personal servant now, stopped in front of the door, turned to Prowl and bowed. "My Lord, the Physician to the Prime's is waiting for you." Reeda made a gesture towards the door but made no move to enter himself, indicating that Prowl was expected to enter alone.

Prowl took the hint and entered, his frame held proud as he should be. A physician, even one as important as this, was still not an important noble and thus was beneath him. It was not suitable to show fear or distress to one without extreme cause. Even though his fate had been known before and after the Prime changed it, his behavior would reflect on his creation House and he would not shame it. He took in the facility that only guests of the Prime saw and the mech who saw them. Despite having the same white and gold base colors of every servant of the palace, this one was a mech of great power with red medical markings and the glyphs of his rank. A commoner he may have been, or even a minor noble once, but no more. His post was his status and it was an important status within these halls.

"Lay down on the berth," the elder mech motioned with something between relief and indifference.

Prowl bristled slightly at the very informal and borderline insulting address but nevertheless did as told.

"No need to go all haughty on me, youngling," Meso Garda said as he adjusted the height of the medberth and pulled a tray of tools and scanners closer. "Just relax and we'll get this over with as fast as possible. You look unusually intact so it shouldn't take long."

Prowl held back his growing irritation with the reminder that this was going to be his attending physician for the foreseeable future and it wouldn't due to anger him. Physicians were servants, but they were servants that could make you utterly miserable without doing anything to be chastised for. So he went along with the orders given, opened his chest, then his valve cover, and endured the poking and prodding and scans.

"Well, that's a first," the medic said drily as he finally removed the scanning prod from Prowl's valve and indicated that he was done. "Your lining is a bit irritated but there's not a single tear. Seems our new Prime is considerably gentler than the last." He added a few details to a data pad, presumably Prowl's medical records, then picked up a small tube and gave it to the Praxian. "You shouldn't need it but if your valve starts feeling sore, use this. I'd advise you to avoid interfacing for a few orns if I had any hopes of my recommendation being listened to, but otherwise you're fine. All three seals are cleanly broken and you are not carrying."

Carrying?

Well, _that_ was a possibility that hadn't occurred to him.

"I thought intent was required to kindle?" Prowl asked as the startled and slightly freaked out fourth creation that he was.

"It's not common," Meso Garda admitted, "but unintentional kindling has been known to happen so I always check."

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance.

"Go then," Meso Garda motioned to the door. Without hesitation Prowl got off the berth and left, more than willing to follow the servant back to the Residence and the safety it represented.

Reeda was waiting for him and bowed politely to the young noble that was now his primary charge. "What does my Lord wish to explore first?"

"The major public spaces of the Residence," Prowl decided to go with something generic and safe. It was important to know where those rooms were, what they were and what they contained. Learning the layout would also give him time to think.

They paused briefly as the grand double doors were manually opened by the guards and stepped inside. Once the doors were closed Prowl took in the grand foyer with multiple paths out. He could see hints of a grand public bathhouse through one doorway and what might be an art gallery through another, but the wide hallways gave little clue as to where they went.

"Very well, my Lord," Reeda said with another bow and led the way towards the first of the six hallways leading out of the grand foyer and the double grand staircase leading up. The passages were wide, artfully illuminated and, like all the parts of the Residence Prowl had seen so far, decorated mainly in white and gold.

Just as Prowl had suspected, the first hall they entered was an art gallery. Countless pieces of the most exclusive artwork Cybertron had to offer were displayed on the walls and on podiums and pedestals throughout the hall. There seemed to be no particular theme apart from the great skill and fame of its creators, and Prowl found himself quietly disapproving of the seemingly haphazard way the exhibition had been organized. Still, even with his limited knowledge of the subject it was easy to tell that this had to be one of the most valuable collections on the planet and likely the most valuable. It suited the status and wealth of the owner, given the Prime, in theory at least, did own the planet and all the space that Cybertron claimed as his own.

One statue in particular caught his attention and Prowl paused. He couldn't stop the small, soft smile at seeing a fine, larger than life crystal statue from his favorite artist. This one, like the few his creators were willing to indulge him with, was unusual for Trident in the subject matter was a wealthy mech, but the fine crafting, smooth finish and artistic simplicity of the lines was all Trident.

Reeda, noticing Prowl's interest, stopped and smiled. "Yes, that is a very fine piece indeed," he said. "Are you interested in art, my Lord? I am sure Safnari would be delighted to give you a more detailed tour of the collections later. I'm afraid my knowledge on the subject is not very profound."

"I do have a general interest, though this caught my attention because of the artist. Trident of Praxus is a favorite of mine and this is a most unusual piece for him," Prowl smiled softly before moving through the room. "I would like to speak with Safnari when it is convenient."

"I will make the necessary arrangements, then," the servant promised before moving on. They left the gallery and passed a number of parlors and salons of different sizes and styles. "These rooms are mainly used for informal meetings and smaller social functions for the Prime, " Reeda explained, gesturing to the left as he turned a corner into a new hallway, even longer than the one they had just passed. "There are 66 of them on this floor, as well as two ballrooms. Of course most of the larger functions are held in the outer part of the Palace, not here in the Residence, but we can receive up to 2600 guests here without problems." He approached a large double door on the right side, which opened silently as he came within reach of its sensors. "And here is one of the five dining halls. Optimus Prime has not chosen a favorite for intimate court meals yet so we are rotating through them until His Grace does."

Prowl dipped his doorwings in understanding and they walked on, glancing in on another dinning hall nearby with different decor, though still in much the same style. "How often does he like to hold such events?"

"His Grace has not yet stated a preference for that either so for now there is only the traditional fête of the major Houses once every metacycle," Reeda replied as they passed yet another set of smaller salons. "Once His Grace has settled in his position and started to form a proper court of his own we expect the frequency to increase."

Prowl acknowledged his understanding of the truth and he couldn't be too surprised given this Prime had neither the time nor the upbringing to shift smoothly into his role in society. "I will do what I can to smooth that transition for him. Who else is responsible for educating him on his duties?"

"The Barasi of Iacon is His Grace's adviser regarding the spiritual part of a Prime's duties." They turned another corner and passed two more dining halls as Reeda continued. "In matters of government it's the head of the faculty for political science at Iacon University along with senators Ratbat and Shockwave for more practical, day to day matters. Social duties are covered by a team lead by our resident specialist on court protocol and etiquette, Mistress Tacke. She also handles most press releases for the Prime."

Prowl filed all that away before being distracted by a lovely interior garden full of exotic, _organic_ plants and even animals though huge glassteal windows into the hallway. It was not unusual for the very rich to have small displays of organic plants or even a small organic but he had never seen anything of this scale before. A hovering creature he couldn't even find a Cybertronian comparison for floated closer, its soft frame bouncing lightly against the window as it apparently tried to investigate the visitors.

"Are all these from the same world?" Prowl breathed in amazement.

Reeda smiled. "No, we have species from no less than 14 different planets in there," he said. "I've been told the very first exhibits were all from the same world but since then the collection has been added to when planets of compatible ecosystems have been found."

"It's amazing. How are their numbers replenished? I understand organics rarely live long," he lifted a hand to trace the path of the floating creature that was curious about him.

"Some of them reproduce spontaneously or can be bred," the servant replied, watching Prowl's fascinated reaction as the animal on the other side of the glass reacted to presence of the Praxian's hand by slowly shifting color from purple to green. "The rest are imported directly from their native worlds."

"Fascinating. How long will this one last?" Prowl asked. 

"I am not entirely sure, my Lord," Reeda admitted. "I know that is one of the species that reproduces but unfortunately I cannot say how long-lived each individual is. But I'm sure our resident organics specialist will be happy to answer any questions."

Prowl flicked his doorwings in understanding. "The species being here when I come by again is enough for now."

The two mechs resumed their walk, exchanging occasional comments as they passed the entire length of the organic garden. A new series of salons and a small library followed, then another left turn that brought them back in the direction of the grand foyer. Prowl kept his focus on mapping the visuals and notes and linking them to four-level map he'd received when he decided to stay.

"And here to the left," Reeda said with a gesture in the mentioned direction, "we have the public bath, with 6 oil pools and one large lava pool, along with other facilities for relaxation and wellbeing-focused maintenance."

Prowl stopped the moment he could look into the lavish room and worked to process just what he was looking at. Yes, he was accustomed to many of the finer things in life, but not even the Royal House of Praxus sported such a lavish public bath. A lava pool was known to be in the palace, but he'd never seen it. This one looked large enough for a couple score of large mecha.

"Amazing," Prowl whispered as he gathered himself. Oh, he was going to very much enjoy spending some down time in that lava pool.

Reeda, attentive servant as he was, could not fail to notice the Praxian's reaction and opened the doors fully to let Prowl enter if he chose to. "It has not yet been used under our new Prime but his predecessor was quite fond of it, both for private and public events," he said as he watched Prowl debate for a brief moment.

"The rest of the tour can wait. Are there any safety concerns with the magma pool? Prowl asked as he stepped inside the spa.

"Do not let it get in your intakes," Reeda advised.

Prowl nodded and glided into the room and stepped carefully onto the first step of the pool barely noticing how the servant bowed and left. The heat was intense, enough so that he had to take care not to enter too quickly, but it was just the right side of scorching and the warmth spread through his frame in a wonderful way. The viscosity of the lava was very different from the oil baths he was used to but it only served to make the experience even more exotic. As he gradually explored the pool large enough to hold the entire royal family of Praxus, it registered that it was not only large, but the far side was deep. 

He backed off enough that he could easily stand with his back and helm above the lava and felt around the ledge for a shelf or cubby to lounge on in the thick heat. He found what he was looking for and allowed himself to sink down in the slightly cup-shaped seat, a moan of pleasure escaping his vocalizer as the heat from the lava engulfed more of his frame. This was bliss.

* * *

Optimus Prime walked into his Residence in far better a mood than he had since he became Prime. He had good news and he was confident that his new companion would be pleased by it. A short comm conversation with Reeda had informed him that Prowl was currently relaxing in the lava spa and so that was where Optimus directed his steps. The servant's offer to announce his imminent arrival had been met with polite but firm rejection - Optimus felt ostentatious enough to have his presence loudly heralded everywhere public he went and hoped he'd at least be able to get the servants out of the habit of doing it in private settings as well.

As he approached the entrance to the lava pool spa he was suddenly glad that he had not yet gotten around to ordering the pools drained and the energy-consuming heating systems turned off. It had felt wasteful to keep them running just for his own sake, especially since he didn't really feel comfortable using the large, luxurious facility all by himself, but if Prowl enjoyed it Optimus would be more than happy to let the Praxian indulge as often as he pleased and perhaps as his cohort grew it would start to feel less strange using it himself. The view inside was a lovely thing for the relaxed bliss of Prowl's features and he stood still for a long moment simply taking in the view of his companion.

It was only when he stepped inside fully that Prowl seemed to register the presence and golden optics lit dimly, then flashed brightly as Prowl recognized who was there. The uncoordinated struggle to get up and greet the Prime properly was enough to get Optimus to raise his hand.

"Relax. I will not stand on ceremony in the Residence."

Prowl's frame relaxed into finishing its boot cycle and by the time Optimus had reached the edge of the lava pool the Praxian seemed fully coherent again. Optimus pondered whether or not he wished to join Prowl in the pool for a while; it was tempting and he didn't feel as bothered by the opulence now that there was someone there to share it with him.

"Is that why I was not alerted to your arrival?" Prowl asked as he extended a hand in invitation.

Optimus nodded in confirmation and having made up his mind, took a careful step into the pool, stopping on the fourth step to let his frame adjust to the heat. "Yes," he said before he began to gradually walk further into the pool. "My apologies for startling you. Being met with ritualized greetings every time you enter a room gets old very quickly, and while I cannot do much about it in public my aim is to see as little as possible of it here in the Residence." He smiled. "I realize this will take some getting used to by everyone here."

"Indeed, though far from an onerous request," Prowl smiled and reached out to lightly fondle a large tire on Optimus's lower leg. "How was your orn?"

"Somewhat productive, for a change," Optimus replied with a smile for Prowl's casual affection. "The negotiations with your sire and the representative from your former intended's House went surprisingly smoothly and all the necessary documents have been prepared. All that remains now is for you to read and sign them."

"Me?" Prowl looked up with a startled flicker across his field. "I have no legal standing in such a negotiation."

"I know, but in my opinion you should have," Prime countered, descending the rest of the way into the pool to where Prowl was. The lava reached just below his waist as he made his way over to Prowl. "It is your life and future we are discussing and I would not feel comfortable with anyone being bound to me by a contract they have not been allowed to review and voice their opinions on." He pulled a datapad from subspace and handed it to Prowl. "As far as the other Houses are concerned the deal is as good as settled but I want you to read this and let me know if there are any changes you wish to include in the part concerning your role here at court. And I do mean that sincerely. The position of Companion is not nearly as strictly regulated as that of a Consort or Concubine so you will have an active part in shaping your life here."

"I understand, Optimus," Prowl's harmonics were reflected in his field, full of thanks, honor and nervousness. "I was educated in contract law and expectations so I would be ready for my creations," he said as he began to read the legal language of the contract, a dialect that had no application outside of contract law and had not directly evolved from any specific language or dialect. It quickly revealed a fairly standard bonding contract in form and largely in content, though the differences in titles and subtle language displayed how much further one party was above the others.

He was distracted for a moment when Optimus made himself comfortable next to him and let one arm rest on the edge of the pool, which just _happened_ to place one of the larger mech's hands just shy of touching Prowl's doorwing hinges. The Praxian responded to the unspoken offer and leaned back, a small shiver of pleasure running through him as Prime's fingers gently started rubbing his upper back.

"Take your time reading the documents and we can discuss any revisions or questions as they appear," Optimus said as he allowed himself to relax, adjusting to the thick, oozing heat that was both like and unlike the hot oil pool in his washrack that he had grown so fond of. He could already tell it was going to be an enjoyable experience for both the heat and the company and suspected from Prowl's teek that Prowl very much enjoyed the supportive heat of both this and the oil pool.

"Thank you, Optimus," Prowl smiled up at him before turning his attention back to the forms to finish reading. The first really was standard, if far more polite and generous than needed but not outrageously so. The second took Prowl a long moment to understand. It read as a bonding contract but not really. It was closer to a personal high-end slave contract granting unusual privileges to the slave and ownership to an individual rather than a House.

When he reached the signature he took a very long time to untangle the complex glyph and came back to it several times to be sure he'd read it correctly. This was a personal contract with _Optimus_ , the Prime of Cybertron, not with the office of the Prime or even the palace. While it meant little in most practical aspects since no Prime stepped down without deactivating, it did mean that anyone beyond the two of them would have Unicron's own time in breaking it. He would not be beholden to the next Prime, for good or ill. While that meant he would need to be ready to take care of himself before Optimus extinguished, it also meant that he didn't need to worry about being a sadist's plaything if the next Prime was more like the last.

It took a few more moments before the full impact of the personal form of the signature really struck Prowl, but once it did his thought process ground to a shrieking halt. Optimus signing with his designation rather than his title meant that the contract would be registered under the common contract law of the nobility, not the special rules that applied to the Prime. That in turn gave Prowl the right, should Optimus not abide by the contract, to have his case tried in a legal court. Of course it was fairly unlikely that such a case of an insignificant third creation against the person of the Prime would be ruled in Prowl's favor - Prowl was not so naive as to trust in the supposed impartiality of the legal system - but the gesture still sent a clear message that Optimus wanted Prowl's position to be as strong as he could make it. It went against every tradition Prowl had ever heard of, but then Optimus was an unusual Prime. There was no way the informal signature could be a mistake, and for a moment Prowl got sidetracked by the thought of how fiercely the Prime's legal representatives must have fought against shaping the contract like this, or even having a contract at all beyond buying Prowl from his rightful lords. The unofficial rule number one of all contract-writing, after all, was never to give your opponent a stronger position than you have to, and yet that was exactly what Optimus had done.

It was too much for a moment and Prowl looked into the warm blue optics above him as he sidled a bit closer to snuggle against Optimus' side

"The lawyers nearly glitched over this one, didn't they?" Prowl asked and tried to hide a slightly amused smile at the thought of the scene.

Optimus chuckled. "Oh yes, they did. They explained repeatedly just how much more advantageous it would be to use the official signature, and even went as far as trying to convince me that the Prime is _not permitted_ to use his personal signature." His field vibrated with amusement. "You should have seen their faces when I asked them to provide the legislation they based their claims on."

"Which they could not, of course," Prowl shared Optimus' amusement. "I don't expect most lawyers are accustomed to being challenged by their client."

"No," Optimus agreed, placing an arm around the snuggling Praxian. "I would say most of their assignments are along the lines of 'I want to do this, find a way to make it legal.' And they seem to have already forgotten that I'm an archivist at spark."

"That is definitely the typical use for lawyers," Prowl agreed with a low purr. "Though the 'I want to do this, find a way to make it legal' has its uses even for you. Just because the laws are intended to protect the rich and connected does not always mean they do. Not against a Prime at least. How firmly do you belief the priesthood backs you and your message?"

"I do not think I have yet communicated a message clear enough for them to get behind or renounce," Optimus replied. "A minority of highly religious Barasi and higher ranked priests will follow me no matter what I do simply because I am Prime, and some that are driven by genuine compassion and desire to help their fellow mecha will do so with relish. The vast majority, however, at least in the upper echelons, are political creatures to a much higher degree than they let on and I expect them to act accordingly."

Prowl nodded faintly, though his doorwings made a greater movement visible above the lava, then slid a tentative hand along Optimus' thigh with a question in his field. Optimus responded to the tacit request by opening his arms in a welcoming gesture and quickly found himself with a lap full of purring Praxian.

He did not mind in the slightest.

"So, was there anything in the contracts you wished to discuss?" he asked, sitting back and enjoying the closeness and the content teek of the smaller mech as Prowl started going over the documents yet again.

* * *

A joor and a half later Optimus had returned to his official duties and Prowl was once more dry, polished and walking next to Reeda as they continued their tour of the Residence. They were both visibly more relaxed and it was a state that Reeda was determined to extend that state in his charge for as long as possible.

"Who are the important servants here?" Prowl asked smoothly as they left the spa.

"The Seneschal of the Residence, and the mech you will see most of during your first time here apart from me and your personal detailers, is Dreamcatcher," Reeda began as they walked along the corridor leading back to the Grand Foyer. "I believe you met him briefly this morning." He sent Prowl an image file and Prowl recognized the mech who had come to fetch him from Prime's quarters before the morning's detailing session. "Then there is Epostle, the Prime's First Adjutant and Secretary. " Another image capture followed. "And of course you've already met Meso Garda, the Prime's and now your primary physician."

The two mechs reached the end of the corridor and Reeda changed directions towards another corridor next to the enormous staircase in the other end of the large, open hall.

"I've already mentioned Hound, our chief groundkeeper, and Safnari, the curator of the art collections," Reeda went on as they crossed the intricately patterned floor of the Grand Foyer. "You are also likely to meet Tacke fairly soon, who handles public relations for the Prime and the Residence. You will probably not meet but definitely hear from our chief of security, Red Alert. Working directly under him is Chromia, Captain of the Primal Guard, and Thundercracker, Captain of the Primal Air Guard."

Prowl made an acknowledging flick with his doorwings, memorizing each designation and position. They had almost reached the staircase now and Prowl could not help but be impressed by its sheer immensity, even though he did wonder in the back of his processor how often it was actually used. Lifts were so much faster and more convenient and he assumed the spectacular construction was mainly for show like the ones he was used to. Waiting for each noble to be announced and walk down the stairs in the stately pace ritual demanded was always the longest part of every event.

While he mused on how long the announcement list must be here Reeda led him to the corridor to the right of the staircase and as expected there was a row of lifts there. The servant passed the first ones and came to a halt at an intersection, gesturing as he spoke. "To the right here we have the two main ball rooms, and to the left the fifth dining hall I mentioned earlier. There are two more grand halls beyond the dining hall as well. Would you like to see them all or shall we move on to the second floor, my lord?"

Prowl thought about it for a moment but decided he'd seen enough to find his way about and large empty rooms, no matter how beautifully decorated, held little appeal to him. "I will inspect the rest of the public halls at a later date," he said, "let us to proceed to the next floor."

With a quick nod Reeda took Prowl to the discreetly tucked away lift just behind the grand staircase and up to the second floor. It only took a glance for Prowl to confirm that this was the level Optimus's rooms were on and his internal map matched what he was seeing.

"This floor holds the suite our current Prime has chosen for himself, as well as 26 smaller ones for those he wishes to keep close. While you have temporarily been given a room inside the Primal suite I've been informed that you are at any time free to choose any of the suites on this or any of the two floors above for your personal use."

Prowl nodded, having been told the same thing during his talk with Optimus in the lava pool. The Prime's generosity still amazed him and the thought that he, a third creation who was for all intent and purposes a nobody in noble society, was not only given a suite in the Primal Residence but could freely take his pick among them, was mindboggling.

"There are four gardens on this level as well, all of them open to the sky," Reeda continued as they moved away from the hallway Prowl had recognized as the one leading to Optimus's suite, crossing the smaller but no less impressive upper foyer. "One is reserved solely for lord Prime's use and is enclosed by his suite but the three others are open to all inhabitants of the Residence." 

Prowl all but missed what the servant said as his processor registered what he was looking at. In an enclosure the full length of a garden's small side a dozen long-legged lilleths socialized in a near-perfect replica of the clear crystal and glass marshes they lived in.

"I thought they were extinct," Prowl murmured.

"Critically endangered. Hound has said they are functionally extinct in the wild but these and half a dozen other small flocks have replicated successfully a few times. Hound has hope he will see them fly in the wild again," Reeda explained.

Prowl nodded mutely, keeping his optics on the shimmering creatures until he and Reeda reached the hall beyond the foyer and a very well-tended crystal garden came into view through the transparent steel that made up the left wall of the hallway. The glitter of living, growing crystal was enough to cause Prowl to pause and face the wall. The layout wasn't Praxian, but it was lovely. The glittering and refracted light drew his doorwings wide and a soft sound of pleasure from his engine.

Reeda waited until he was ready to move on with silent appreciation that there were places that he could easily guild his master to for relaxation and pleasure when stressed.

"Each garden has its own style and theme," Reeda said as they resumed their walk, "and we have crystals here from every corner of the planet, including two donated from the Helix Garden in Praxus. They are of course nowhere near as majestic as the original crystals but I've been told by those who have the correct sensory equipment to hear it that they do sing."

"I will enjoy listening to them when I have settled in," Prowl said with real anticipation. "Most crystal gardens sing, at least if they are live and healthy. The one there certainly looked to be."

"Hound is very skilled with anything that grows, be it metallic, mineral or organic in composition," the servant acknowledged. "And he takes pride in his work."

"It shows," Prowl said with a subharmonic of pleased approval. They made yet another left turn, following the short end of the rectangular garden and discussing the highlights of the garden as they passed them. The small creatures that were able to handle the Cybertronian atmosphere moved about. Most were locals, a dozen varieties of flutterbots flitted about, their large, brightly colored iridescent wings flapping to propel them into random flight patterns that not even Prowl could predict with much accuracy. Turbo-canaries sang and hopped on crystal branches.

They walked in silence for half a klik until they reached a place where the hallway split and there the servant stopped. "Would you like to have a look at one or two of the suites in this part of the Residence, mylord," Reeda asked," or shall we proceed directly to the next garden?" 

"Let's walk through a suite. Are most similar in layout?" He asked.

"For those designed with average sized mecha in mind, yes. Some are identical, or mirroring one another. There are also those now intended for bonded groups," Reeda replied as approached a door to their right, which opened soundlessly as they came within reach of its sensors, "but there are also many that have been modified over the vorns, changing the original layout. And most if not all inhabitants have had their suites redecorated in their own taste, so there is quite a variety in styles."

They stepped through the doors and for a moment Prowl wondered who had lived here under the former Prime, and where they had gone when the old Prime deactivated. No doubt many of the sparked ones would have been sold off or deactivated, but for the rest...

He was briefly distracted by decor that had unquestionably come from Praxian's tastes and felt himself relaxing as he walked through an entry room that would have fit right in to the suite of one of his creator's elder siblings. The layout spoke of a single noble who'd lived in and decorated this place to their tastes, but hadn't settled in the way one did after a long time.

"Did they take their possessions with them?" he asked absently as he walked into a room that had been turned into a gloriously high-ceilinged art gallery.

"Some of them did," Reeda replied, "although most of what they had during their time here didn't actually belong to them but to the Residence and thus it was either put in storage, sold or destroyed when the previous holder left."

Prowl's doorwings gave an understanding flick as he moved on to look into the washrack and quivered slightly at the elegant beauty of it. He recognized a couple setting in the shower that were almost exclusive to Praxus and the hot oil pool was much smaller than the Prime's but still more than large enough for one to relax fully in or two to be intimate in.

Reeda, who had remained in the room outside the washrack, smiled as he saw his master's doorwings flutter in delight at the distinctly Praxian setup. One did not need to be particularly observant to understand that Prowl really enjoyed a good soak and would probably indulge often. As personal quirks went it was definitely a pleasant one compared to what some of his previous masters had 'indulged' in. In truth, from what he knew so far, Prowl was a different from the usual residents as Optimus was from a usual Prime. It wasn't something he was about to complain about either. A lazy master was rarely an abusive one.

"I would like an updated map of the Residence to include the primary design influence of the rooms when known," Prowl said as he came out of the washrack and walked to check out one of the two berthrooms in this suite.

"Yes, master," Reeda immediately began adding the requested notes from memory as a way to make a list of those he needed to check. "Are there any style sets you would be particularly interested in having more thoroughly documented for viewing?"

"Not at present," Prowl replied, returning to the hall as neither of the berthrooms had contained anything noteworthy. He left the suite and halted momentarily outside, looking at the servant for directions for their continued tour onto another suite. This one was a very different style with the dark, heavy colors and simple artwork favored by Kaon, complete with taxidermy trophies of mechanimals, mecha and organics.

"This is one of the medium sized suites," Reeda began, "intended for a pair or a small family. Eight rooms, standard washrack and a training room equipped with a grade 6 holo simulator."

"Impressive," Prowl murmured as he checked out the decor that was so strikingly opposite to what he was used to and the defaults preferred in other cities. "Was it wiped when they left?"

Reeda made a pause, presumably checking the Residence records for the requested info. "It doesn't seem that way, my lord," he replied after a moment. "If so it was not logged."

"It will be interesting to see what they had then," Prowl's doorwings flicked happily while he made a quicker tour of the suite than the Praxian one without actually missing anything.

"You are of course at liberty to return here any time you like," Reeda said as he followed Prowl out into the hallway again. "You have automatic access to every suite that is not occupied, which is to say all of them at present. Should you like the simulator and want to reserve it solely for your personal use the rest of the suite can be redecorated to your taste or one can be installed in a room of the suite you select."

"I understand," Prowl said agreeably and followed Reeda along a hallway to a beautifully crafted and inlaid door of an ironwood forest hunt. It slid open at their approach and Prowl willingly stepped out into another garden, open to the sky just like the previous one and of the same size and shape. Where the other one had focused on the colorful, glittering prisms of crystals, this one was almost completely metallic and monochrome, using every shade from the purest white to the darkest black. In the middle of the garden, turned 45 degrees to the enclosing walls, was a large quadratic fountain with a bright turquoise liquid that positively glowed in contrast to its surroundings. Each corner of the open area also sported a smaller arrangement of cascading liquid, making the trickling sounds an integral part of the garden's almost otherworldly atmosphere.

"Amazing," Prowl murmured and spread his doorwings to take full advantage of his sensor suite. "What city produced this concept?"

"The basic layout - one large central piece and four satellites - is traditional Iaconian, symbolizing balance," Reeda replied as he followed Prowl into the strictly symmetrical and yet surprisingly natural-looking garden. "The color scheme is inspired by a small planet in the Syphaira system."

Prowl nodded and made his way towards the large fountain, momentarily distracted by the intricate pattern of the tiled path. Whoever designed it had been highly skilled, creating a beautiful pattern using nothing but simple squares and triangles of various sizes and shades of gray.

"Is the liquid safe to touch?" he asked when he reached the central fountain. After receiving an affirmative reply from Reeda he reached out with one hand towards the semi-transparent veil, watching in fascination how the liquid changed color from turquoise to blue, purple and then magenta as his fingers finally touched it.

"It reacts to EM-fields,"Reeda explained. "Similar effects can be created using artificial energy but the strongest reactions and clearest colors always come from the field of a living Cybertronian. And different mecha will get different colors. The phenomenon is well documented but no-one has yet been able to isolate exactly what elements in our fields the liquid reacts to." To demonstrate he stepped forward and touched the surface some distance from Prowl, creating a greenish yellow circle around his hand.

"Amazing," Prowl murmured and continued to play with it a bit longer before he forced himself to turn away so they could continue the tour. They completed a circle around the garden and left the same way they had entered, even though Prowl had seen four other doors and few that there would be others for the staff. "Do any of the suites have direct access to the gardens?" he asked as they were back in the hallway. He had of course noticed that most of the walls around the garden were made of transparasteel but the way the garden was lit it had been impossible to see through them from that side.

"Every suite has its own access to the garden it faces if it faces one," Reeda said easily. "The utter level suites can have a hidden lift installed if the occupant cannot fly."

They reached another ninety degree turn where the hallway kept going along the long side of the garden they'd just visited, but Reeda turned instead towards a large double door set diagonally in the outer corner of the bend. "And here," he said, "is the largest single room in the entire Residence: the Primal Library."

Prowl though he'd seen libraries. Praxus wasn't the intellectual center than Iacon was, but they still valued education greatly. Even so as he stepped inside and looked forward and up, Prowl couldn't find anything but giddy awe in himself. While it was architecturally simple, a wide central hall that was interrupted by twenty four pillars, each backeting a shelving stricture of highly polished crystal eighteen levels high, the real optic catcher was the glowing ceiling of a moving galactic starscape.

For well over half a klik Prowl stood completely still, just staring and trying to take it all in. The slowly moving starscape was almost hypnotic and he felt like he could stand there for joors just looking. With some effort he managed to tear his gaze from it and instead focus on the rows after rows of data pads. He couldn't even guess how many of them there might be and he positively itched to find a terminal and start exploring.

He turned to take in the other half of the huge room, much shorter but slightly wider and sporting two more parallel halls with six pillars each stretching out at ninety degrees from the main part, giving the entire room an L shape. The corner facing the entrance held a number of what looked like small reading rooms in three levels, comfortably furnished to suite a wide variety of frame types.

"This... is incredible," he finally said, his voice filled with awe. "How many volumes are here?"

"The indexing is of questionable accuracy at this time. It is an issue that we are working on diligently since His Grace Optimus Prime expressed displeasure in it," Reeda motioned to the left and the furthest of the six sections of shelves. "There are an estimated six hundred million bookfile pads in this library. In addition there are three thousand and nineteen solid state books in the special editions room. Individual libraries in the Residence hold an additional three hundred and five books and an estimated million bookfiles."

Prowl nodded absent-mindedly. "Does it take any particular formalities to gain access here?"

"Only access to the Residence, my lord," Reeda replied. "You are welcome to indulge your interests here. I will bring any you wish to the lava or an oil pool if you wish."

Prowl could no longer keep the giddiness he felt from bleeding out into his field. He had more or less expected to have a stern librarian watching his every step and monitor what he would and would not be allowed to read. To have free and complete access to _everything_ he might want to look at and on top of that be able to do his reading wherever he liked was beyond his wildest dreams. It simply wasn't the way things worked for a minor creation.

"Is there an order to things yet?" He asked as he walked up to the nearest towering shelf and began scanning titles by ping.

"By age. The earliest additions are in the far left corner and the newest in the far right," he motioned to the opposite corners. "It has been expanded several times as volumes are added. The exception is the section in front of you. Those three shelves that are easiest to access are full of the files that are frequently requested. I am unsure how His Grace will wish them organized after they are inventoried."

"I'm confident I do. There is a system that public libraries use. I'm sure the archivist in him will want it organized to the standard," Prowl smiled and thought over the titles he was getting. A lot of law and history, which he expected given the situation, but the rest was as broad a spectrum as his own reading list. 

"I was not aware of that," Reeda admitted, "but that would of course make sense." He hesitated a bit before asking, "Are you familiar with that system, my lord?"

"Quite familiar," he purred as he moved along the seemingly endless shelves of bookfile pads, simply reveling in the vast array for the moment and mentally marking those he would want to read once he was done skimming for the orn. Even as he walked and pinged for titles and summaries, he skimmed the datanet. Eventually he found the link he was looking for and pinged it to Reesa. It wasn't hard to tell the servant was hoping to be told what Prowl knew and while Prowl didn't much care if he made a servant's functioning easier, this would please Optimus and that did matter, a lot.

"Thank you, my lord," Reeda said, surprise and gratitude that Prowl had bothered to assist coloring his voice. "Would you like me to bring refreshments while you examine the collections?"

"Not yet. Where is the special editions room?" Prowl asked.

"Over here," the servant replied with a gesture and led Prowl into one of the halls in the shorter wing of the library, where one section of shelves had been partitioned off from the rest with transparasteel walls. "This room was built comparatively recently, to provide a safer environment for the solid state books."

Prowl quivered. In his entire existence he'd only gotten this close to a book once. A single solid state book. That was one of the prizes of the Cultural Museum of Praxus, and it only had that single book, an incredible work of art that recorded the hymns to Primus in High Praxian, because the Barasi of Praxus had commissioned it for them from his own artisans. No one else could have afforded such a gift, and even from the master of those who created them it was a lavish one.

Now he was that close to thousands of them. As Reeda opened a nearly invisible door for him he realized he wasn't just as close as in the museum, but about to be closer and with the key to access no less. 

He entered the room with a feeling of reverence, tuning out the sound of Reeda's voice as his entire focus was directed at the treasures in front of him. The books were neatly arranged in even rows on the shelves, although there seemed to be no particular system for in which order they stood, just like the rest of the library. Prowl approached the nearest shelf and reached out, hesitant to actually touch the rare objects and at the same time unable to resist.

The precious organic stone, something that must have been imported from a world far away, was inlaid in the gold cover in a decorative pattern than artfully concealed the item's title until Prowl opened the glittering masterpiece and struggled through the High Iaconian on the first page. Only then did his processors make out "Hymns of the Prime" in the display.

Reeda, having fallen silent when he realized Prowl wasn't paying any attention to his words anymore, remained standing just inside the door for a couple of kliks, his servant's coding singing with joy at seeing and teeking his master's elation with the library in general and this room in particular. He made a note to himself to educate himself on the indexing system Prowl had sent to him, as well as keeping a close look on the progress made in the library. While a Companion of the Prime did not hold the same rank as a Consort, Prowl being the first one to join the new Prime in the Residence would give him a certain status, and that made keeping him happy even more important. From what Reeda had seen and heard so far, though, serving Prowl was not going to be a disagreeable task. As a servant he may be code bound to always do his best for his master, but that did not mean he enjoyed the abuse some nobles were all too happy to heap on mecha of his kind. 

At five and a half kliks Prowl walked to the reading nook in the room seemed to realize Reeda was still there. "You may leave. Alert me when the Prime is returning."

* * *

Optimus was tired as he finally returned to the Residence for the evening, which annoyed him since he hadn't actually got anything worthwhile done since the negotiations with Prowl's creation House earlier. He had hoped the meaningless functions would be at least somewhat fewer and farther between once the first excitement over the new Prime had settled down, but so far there was no sign of it. He wondered briefly if any of his predecessors had felt this trapped by the title or if they had all enjoyed being glorified figureheads spending practically every waking joor partying and socializing. 

He wondered by the lava pool spa first, half expecting that Prowl hadn't moved. Despite the young noble's education and inquisitive mind, he definitely understood the concept of how to easily wile an orn away better than Optimus did.

When the spa proved to be dark and empty he considered pinging Prowl directly but decided against it, in case the Praxian was resting - the young noble's life _had_ been turned somewhat upside down in the last decajoors, after all, which could take its toll on anyone. Instead he opened a comm to Dreamcatcher, correctly guessing that the seneschal had some way of keeping track on every mech inside the Residence. When he received the answer he realized he should have been expecting it - a mech like Prowl was almost bound to instantly fall in love with the great library, just like he himself had done.

Reassured that he would at least not pull Prowl out of recharge he pinged the younger mech to ask if he'd mind some company. Technically he didn't have to ask, of course, and he was fairly certain Prowl wouldn't say no no matter what he truly felt, not yet, but he was determined to treat the Praxian as as much of an equal as he possibly could and keep signaling that he valued and respected Prowl as a mech, not just as someone who would be useful to him.

As expected the Praxian replied at once with a happy and even enthusiastic invitation, and Optimus found himself smiling softly as he made his way to the second story and the expansive collection of knowledge in the quarter of the Residence next to his quarters. Despite the trying orn it looked like the evening was going to be enjoyable.

Prowl was waiting for him just inside the doors of the library when he arrived, looking relaxed and thoroughly content.

"I teek your evening went pleasantly," Optimus smiled at the much smaller much.

"It did. I teek that yours was frustrating. What would relax you tonight?" Prowl replied, the question born of honesty more than manners.

"Peace and quiet, some energon, pleasant company and a good bookfile?" Optimus responded, making it sound more like a suggestion than a statement. "And perhaps you could tell me how your orn has been?"

"That sounds very pleasant, Optimus," Prowl brightened with real anticipation and motioned towards the solid state book room. "Would you like to read here, or enjoy more time in a pool?"

"I would not be adverse to either," Optimus replied and took quiet note of the confusion that flickered across Prowl's expression. "What would be your preference?"

"The lava pool is amazing," Prowl said and did his best to hide his nervousness from his field.

"Then the lava pool it is," Optimus smiled and let approval color his field, happy that Prowl had voiced his opinion, albeit in a roundabout way. Even better was the way Prowl relaxed and the excitement returned to his field with the approval.

Prowl smiled slightly and his doorwings have a pleased wiggle before he turned to quickly pick up the bookfile pad he'd decided on if they were going to go somewhere he didn't dare bring a hard form book.

"Have you found any pieces of particular interest in the library's collections yet?" Optimus asked as they left the huge hall together and made their way down to the spa area. "Dreamcatcher informed me you've spent almost seven joors there."

A brief pulse of fear, triggered by the memories of his carrier scolding him for wasting time on "self-indulgent browsing" in the Central Library of Praxus, flashed through Prowl when he belatedly realized that yes, he _had_ been there for that long, but then the warmth and approval in his Prime's field pushed the feelings away. This was a mech who _understood_ his passion for learning, and also encouraged it.

It would take some getting used to.

Prowl pushed a smile to his faceplates as his field relaxed. "A great deal. There are so many solid state books. They are so beautiful, even the glyphs are works of art."

"You hadn't seen one before?" Optimus asked curiously. While he agreed the palace's collection was difficult to comprehend, he also knew that most nobles Houses seemed to have a few.

"Once, in a museum. My creation House is neither old nor wealthy enough to have acquired one for display yet," Prowl explained easily. "I'd never touched one before today."

"It is a fascinating experience," Optimus said. "Seeing and feeling the love and dedication that have gone into creating them. Did you know it takes eighty six vorns to even get through the first apprentice stage of becoming a Scribe? To completely master the art often takes ten times as long."

"I did not," Prowl's voice was hushed in awe and new appreciation while his field flared with wonder. "Do you know if one must be a priest to train?"

"As far as I know there's no real mandate for it," Optimus replied, "but given the focus and dedication needed, the Master Scribes are reluctant to accept apprentices who are not already tied to a temple." He paused for a moment, then added, drily, "Most Barasi claim it is because of the sanctity of the items they produce, but personally I suspect the financial aspect is a considerable factor in the equation, considering what a well-made solid state book costs."

"I would not doubt it. The priesthood may exist to care for our culture and Primus' will, but to do so requires both finances and political power," Prowl said as his optics caught the edge of the lilleth display coming into view just past the lift. His field shifted to a different kind of wonder than what the books created in him.

Optimus noticed the shift and followed the Praxian's gaze. "Ah yes," he said, "there we have something else that is both rare and beautiful."

"Only far more likely to disappear," Prowl said softly. "It is amazing to me that something so delicate could be a predator and common prey of so very few."

Optimus nodded. "True. It would be a tragedy if their species was extinct. I've been told that Hound has been remarkably successful in breeding them, though, so maybe not all hope of seeing them in the wild again is lost quite yet."

"It would be a great achievement to have a stable wild population," Prowl agreed as they moved to the lift with only a faint hint of reluctance. "The work of a lifetime, perhaps, between securing the protections, the land and the individuals."

Optimus hummed in agreement as they entered the lift and quickly made it to the floor below. "How much of the Residence did you have time to see before you found the library?"

"The first floor and the right half of the second, Optimus." Prowl answered as they stepped out and walked towards the lava pool spa. "There are some truly amazing rooms and collections. I am curious how much influence you have had on it."

"Very little, so far," Optimus admitted. "My schedule has been very busy since my first day here and there hasn't really been much time for exploring or changing things. I doubt I've even seen half of my own suite, never mind the rest of the Residence." He felt, more than even teeked the momentary pause as Prowl debated something and gave the young mech the time. In the end it was a barely noticeable half dozen nanokliks.

"Perhaps once I have a solid understanding of the palace and your duties, I could look for ways to free some of your time for pursues you enjoy?" Prowl suggested very carefully.

Optimus smiled and let his genuine appreciation show in his field. "Hopefully things will be somewhat more manageable once I know where I stand and can start shaping things instead of just floating along with traditions and protocol, but if it appeals to you I can assure you that your help would be very much appreciated. There are so few mecha in this world I feel I can trust, which makes delegating work almost impossible." He gave a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. "To be honest I hardly know what to do myself most of the time, which tends to make it tricky to instruct others to do it for me. And I do not like the idea of missing something important just because at first glance it looked negligible."

"I am not so old that I have forgotten that feeling," Prowl assured him as he brightened at the prospect of helping in such a tangible way. "I must learn the quirks of the palace and Primal status before I would suggest anything. It is a duty I was raised for."

"Just let myself or Dreamcatcher know what you want and need to advance and you shall have it. But you already are helping me just by being here, so do not feel obligated to push yourself too hard," Optimus assured him gently as they stepped into the lava spa. With the first wave of heat both their frames began to relax in the pleasant memories of earlier that orn. He held back, just a step, so he could watch Prowl descend into the viscus heat. Not only was the Praxian decidedly attractive to look at, but seeing those beautiful doorwings flutter in almost sparkling-like delight did something to Optimus's spark that he just couldn't explain, or get enough of.

Following his Companion into the pool with a smile on his lips, Optimus settled right next to Prowl on the same ledge they'd occupied earlier that orn. His smile turned into a chuckle as the smaller mech scooted closer and, after a quick glance for permission, made himself comfortable in Optimus's lap, his engine purring happily and his field teeking of contentment. It warmed the young Prime in a way no arousal could and despite the light arousal in Prowl's field, neither expressed a want for more than this as they read and nibbled on the treats that appeared by Optimus' hand within kliks.


	3. Fitting In

Two orns later, Prowl was sitting in what was well on its way of becoming a favorite corner of the private garden inside the Primal suite, reading yet another bookfile on the rules and regulations directing the life of a Prime and his entourage while he waited for Optimus to arrive for the early afternoon break in duties. He had spent most of the orn in his new office, a room inside the Primal suite that had been furnished and decorated according to his taste and desires with astonishing speed and efficiency, and he was still on something of a high with the feeling of being not only allowed but _encouraged_ to be useful, to pursue knowledge and use it for things other than pointless intrigues. Optimus had given him more or less carte blanche to decide what he wanted to do, and now the amount of freedom he had was finally starting to sink in.

It was intoxicating. It triggered every greedy and prideful impulse he was capable of. It also triggered loyalty on a level he hadn't imagined was possible. He knew what coded loyalty felt like and this went far beyond that. This was real loyalty brought on by real kindness.

He allowed those thoughts to dance around the back of his processor, fully aware that he'd eventually process them to the point where they weren't a subject of wonder anymore. As those thoughts slid to the background his awareness shifted to a change in the sound of the misty fall of liquid from a statue that was definitely his favorite of those that were already here. The lovely pair of tall, slender mecha twined around each other were done in Prowl's favorite style, though not by his favorite artist. Simple, clean lines, minimal detail and carved into every element was the perfect expression of the desired characteristic, whether strength, elegance, motion or something else.

While the other three grand gardens in the Residence were all beautiful, this one felt a lot more intimate. Though certainly just as well tended as the others it felt more like a natural grove than a garden, with soft and flowing shapes as the only apparent theme. Prowl knew better and the skill the architect used to create the erotic atmosphere without being explicit in any way was something he found as entrancing as arousing. That someone attractive always seemed to come by just as his charge went from pleasant to wanting a touch was an indulgence that still amazed him. He was just beginning to work out which was which among the pair that seemed to be assigned to his pleasure. They looked alike, moved the same and even had nearly matching voices. It was primarily their teek that marked them as different individuals.

They were flight frames, lithe and elegant, and it was obvious their sparks had been well called, just like every servant Prowl had encountered in the palace so far. They could play Prowl's frame like a musical instrument and always seemed to know what he wanted and needed even before he himself did. It was everything he fantasized a royal's life was like. Servants to tend to his every need and desire, the ability to do to nothing except indulge his personal interests and the authority to answer to no one beyond his House lord.

He set the datapad down and watched the fountain, absently calculating the fall of the iridescent liquid for a few kliks before movement at the edge of his vision drew his focus to the courtesans gliding towards him and he smiled. They moved with the inherent grace most light flight frames had, doubtlessly augmented by upgrades and training, and their expressions were playful and full of promise. Prowl felt his systems heat in anticipation at the mere sight of them. Wherever in the network these two had come from, they were exactly what courtesans should be for him. He enjoyed the attention of the Prime's pair but he preferred a greater difference between his Prime and his playthings.

They fit into this garden so perfectly, their dance as reminiscent of the statues and the highest art of interfacing. It wasn't long before Prowl relaxed fully and he made no effort to prevent his interface array from sliding open.

As always, they knew exactly when his charge went from a pleasant buzz to a more insistent need and within moments they were approaching him, all without breaking the rhythm of their graceful dance. They didn't break apart until they reached him and one knelt before him while the other moved in behind him and started caressing his doorwings.

"What would my lord prefer today?" the kneeling mech purred, and Prowl felt a shiver of lust run from his chevron to his pedes as the courtesan's hands slowly made their way up his thighs.

"Your mouth on my spike, then your spike in my valve," Prowl answered with a soft, pleased moan. He loved their fields as much as their touch. He let his optics go offline, focusing entirely on the sensation of their touch and teek. The hands on his thighs gently pushed his legs apart and then slid over his hips and around his waist, even as a pair of warm lips closed around the tip of his spike. It was blissful to simply relax and enjoy the pleasure surrounded by fields that were enjoying it with him.

A second pair of lip plates and a glossa kissed and caressed his chevron, sending a tingle of pleasure into his helm and face while the attention of the second mouth on his spike caused a stronger tingle of pleasure to move upward. Even in this the two courtesans were perfectly synchronized and for a brief moment the rapidly dwindling rational part of Prowl's processor wondered if it was possible for a called spark to split and create genuine twins or if it was merely training that made the two, who were obviously batch mates, so well coordinated.

Then the pressure around his spike increased as the kneeling mech began to work it in earnest, and Prowl lost himself completely in their combined pleasure. He was only distantly aware of the Prime's arrival and only remained lost in the pleasure because he had been clearly instructed to do so unless his Prime said otherwise. Even this soon after moving in, he had worked out that while Optimus wasn't the voyeur that Prowl was, Optimus definitely did enjoy watching and teeking others in pleasure.

The fact that he could bring his Prime pleasure simply by being pleasured himself added yet another layer of gratification on top of the physical satisfaction for Prowl, and between that and the talented courtesans' efforts it wasn't long before he went over the edge, overloading with a moan of bliss. 

He lolled his helm to the side so his optics would come into focus on his mate. "Greetings," he said without otherwise moving, his tone as warm as his field. "Join us?"

Optimus made himself comfortable on the other end of the garden bench, well within teeking distance but not so close as to risk being in the way. "If you don't mind I think I will just sit here and enjoy the view for a while," he said with a smile and a playful pulse of his field.

The courtesan that was standing was the first to make a move by tipping Prowl's face up to him for a long, languid and intense enough kiss that Prowl moaned and flared his field with it. His knees spread further as warm lip plates caressed a few of the platelets around his valve's rim. Trusting the mech behind him to support his upper frame he leaned back further in a clear invitation for the other courtesan to proceed. With supple grace and every movement intended to arouse, the kneeling one shifted and slid his spike smoothly into Prowl. With a moan of pleasure Prowl lifted his right and hooked it around the courtesan's hip to give Optimus that much better a view of the slide of spike into valve. It had the additional benefit of letting the spike penetrate just a little deeper and at a slightly different angle, hitting a sensor cluster that sent tingles all the way to Prowl's spark.

It was beautiful to watch and feel and teek. As Prowl's charge built it was difficult to tell which of the four were enjoying it the most, though they would all say it was Prowl. Optimus watched in fascination how the three frames moved together. It wasn't so much the eroticism of the scene that affected him - although it certainly appealed - but the joy and harmony that flowed freely through their unrestrained fields. It made him relax in ways he rarely did these orns, even more than when he took active part in the interfacing. He wondered if that was the Matrix's doing, its subtle way of telling him that he did right in focusing on the well-being of those around him. It certainly felt that way, and Optimus liked the feeling.

As Prowl overloaded with a joyful keen, the courtesan between his legs joined him, elevating an already blissful high and bring Prowl down slowly. As Optimus watched the courtesans gently supported and cleaned him until he was fit to been in public once more and steady enough to sit on his own. It seemed that between one blink and the next the pair vanished.

"How was your morning, Optimus?" Prowl asked as they were once more alone in the garden.

"Decent," the Prime replied in that way Prowl had learned to interpret as 'boring and unproductive but not awful'. "Although," he continued with amusement in his voice and a teasing push of his field, "probably not quite as pleasant as yours. Was that the same pair I saw yesterday?"

"Yes, it was," Prowl replied. I believe they are assigned to me now, or at least among those selected to suit my assumed aesthetic," he went on without any effort to hide that he was typically Praxian that way or that he was pleased with them.

"And from what I've seen so far it seems to be a good match," Optimus commented. 

"Indeed, they are," Prowl purred and wiggled his doorwings happily.

"Are a pair normal for all nobles?" Optimus asked as he suddenly wondered.

"Mmm, In Praxus, Vos and Helios it is common because three is the most common social arrangement. Other cities seem to vary, but I would say that the higher the rank the more likely a mecha is to have a harem," Prowl answered thoughtfully.

"Hmm, I suppose that would explain why Dreamcatcher seemed genuinely astonished when I refused to let him commission more than two for me," Optimus mused, the added with a wry smile, "In fact I tried to decline altogether at first, not feeling comfortable with mecha being brought online for the sole purpose of serving me, but in the end he somehow managed to get me to agree all the same."

"I believe I would be astonished if that was the only time you astonished him," Prowl laughed lightly. "You are unlike any noble I have heard of in so many ways."

"That may be because I am not really a noble, you know," Optimus said with a humorous glint in his optics, "just a poor archivist who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Or the right place at the right time, depending on who you ask," Prowl teased back with matching humor.

"True," Optimus admitted. "And I have every intention to keep shocking him - and others - if he has not yet accepted the fact that I have very little in common with my predecessors. I may not have the political clout yet to affect many things outside the Palace but I will start with what I have here, and hopefully that will pay when it is time to take on the real dragons out there."

"It will. Even with little power you have a great deal of authority in a few things," Prowl's smile was mildly devious. "From making allies by being yourself as you were with me to the rules of the palace to edicts for the priesthood and work with the Barasi. There is much you can do to solidify your power before you challenge the Senate."

Optimus nodded, lost in thought for a moment before he addressed Prowl again, seemingly changing the subject. "Have you spent any time talking to the courtesans?"

Prowl gave a startled look, then shook his helm. "It hadn't really occurred to me, at least not when they're around. They are delightfully distracting."

"That they are," Optimus agreed. "It's the core of their function and so it is only natural that they are very good at it. But even if they perform their duties well and take great delight in it, that is not all they are. I know much of the nobility has a tendency to view mecha sparked for a certain function as little more than drones and treat them as such. That is not only morally questionable but also a huge waste of potential." He paused and smiled briefly at Prowl's dubious look. "Tell me, how do you think the courtesans spend their time when they are not entertaining us?"

"What all artisans do. Train, study new techniques, spend time with their own kind and complain about the bad things in existence," he rattled off, but his look to Optimus was questioning. "They are artisans."

"All true," Optimus conceded, "but they also exchange news and gossip. They are part of a huge network of intelligence that mostly goes ignored or at least vastly underestimated. Servants, I have learned, know everything that goes on in a House and its surroundings. That is knowledge that could prove invaluable but is incredibly difficult or downright impossible for the likes of us to get hold of. Most servants serve because they have to, whether it's code or circumstances that keep them in place, but there is rarely any true loyalty behind it. That is one of the first things I want to work on, first here in the Residence and then the rest of the palace, and I am hoping you will be willing to help me in."

Prowl nodded his helm and doorwings in immediate agreement even as he was still processing the request. "The easiest route I can see into their world is through those we interact with every orn while we are at ease. If we can make personal connections with some of them, we might have access to it. Our courtesans, Dreamcatcher, Red Alert, the cute little minibot that refills our goblets, who else?"

"That is more or less what I was thinking," Optimus said with approval. "The list will expand as we proceed but we should start with, as you say, the ones currently closest to us. They have already had the opportunity to see and interpret some of our actions and are at least somewhat less likely to think we're just playing with them."

"You, at least. Three orns isn't long enough for them to trust me," Prowl pointed out.

"Not for trust, no, but they have seen that you are not of the violent or aggressive kind who will lash out at the drop of a bolt," Optimus countered. "Real trust will take time to arrive at, for both of us, but if we keep showing an interest in improving their situation we will eventually get there, or so I hope."

"It would be likely," Prowl agreed as he thought back. "I expect a level of caution for several centuries. I am young and you were not raised a noble. They are likely watching us for how we mature into our new stations."

"As do I. I am not quite so naive as to expect everyone to trust me just because I want them to and because _I_ know my intentions are honest," Optimus said with a hint of a smile. "Trust is an act of faith, after all, and we have to prove ourselves worthy of it."

Prowl thought about that, then cocked his helm slightly. "I would disagree with you. Faith is typically defined as a firm belief in something for which there is no proof. Trust is typically defined as believing that what has gone before is a firm indicator of what will come in the future. To learn to trust is almost the opposite of faith. It is a firm belief founded in some proof."

Optimus looked surprised for a moment, just long enough for Prowl to start wondering if he'd overstepped, and then the Prime burst out laughing. "I stand corrected," he said, still chuckling. "And I must say that is very refreshing considering how everyone else just nods and agrees no matter what I say."

"You told me to be honest with you. You have shown hints before that you meant it. I trusted that would hold true," Prowl smiled a bit shyly as he allowed his relief at not being reprimanded to seep away. "Now I have that much more reason to trust it will remain true, as will those who have witnessed this."

Optimus chucked again. "I did, and I am glad you have taken it to spark. I realize I have the history of my predecessors working against me, as well as the generally low regard for honesty that seems to reign amongst much of the nobility, so I expect it to take quite some time before mecha actually start believing that when I say something I actually mean it."

"That is very true. You will confuse many ranking mecha for a long time before they learn how to translate what you say to what you mean in their culture. Nobility and blunt truth are not a combination that is permitted, much less understood," Prowl gave a thoughtful hum. "I can help you translate what you want into a language they understand better."

"I will gladly take you up on that offer and I have a feeling I am going to need it a lot," Optimus said with an odd mix of amusement and resignation in his field. "It is a language that does not come naturally to me, even with the help of the Matrix. Interpreting others' convoluted messages presents no problem but I fear skirting eight laps around an issue instead of addressing it directly will never make sense to me."

"It is a processor set," Prowl smiled softly, amused at the description of what had frustrated him his entire existence. "It is simply things are done, much like the complements that everyone knows that no one means. Nobles, politicians, business mecha and many lawyers all speak in a similar way. It's founded on an effort not to offend and not to give away any more than is required to get what you want and don't have the authority to demand. It has never been easy for me, but at least I was raised with it."

"I will learn, even if I never really understand," Optimus nodded, then suddenly stilled as if listening to a comm call. Then he groaned, annoyance bleeding into his field. "Primus, not another one."

"What is it?" Prowl asked.

"A message from Tacke," Optimus replied, "informing me they have scheduled yet another one of those horrible display dinners."

"You do not find the Grand Couvert enjoyable?" Prowl asked, although his tone made it more of a statement than a question. It was obvious from Optimus's expression that he did not. "Why not?"

"The whole tradition is preposterous," Optimus replied with distaste. "I'm supposed to sit on a throne on a dais for over a joor, consuming a dozen servings of the most absurdly expensive and extravagant food, all the while some 200 mecha stand around me, just watching and waiting for me to finish so they can eat. And I'm not even allowed to speed the proceedings up; last time I tried Tacke informed me it was considered 'highly disrespectful to the guests'. It is absolutely insane."

Prowl cocked his helm and thought about it, then his doorwings flicked. "It is a display of wealth and power, of your status and what Cybertron can acquire. Every royal and more than a few nobles put on the same show."

"I know, but it is still such a waste of time and resources, and it makes me feel uncomfortable in the extreme. The very concept of one mech enjoying opulence while the ones around him go without goes against everything I believe in, and although the guests at these dinners are very far above the poor and starving the symbolism is very hard to ignore."

"I can see that," Prowl said slowly, thinking about it carefully in a way that was alien to him. "It is not how any noble sees it. Perhaps work to replace it with a display of similar effect that doesn't bother you as much?"

"I definitely will, in time," Optimus replied, then added with a smile, "but until then I now at least will not be alone at the table, and that will make it slightly more bearable." He paused for a moment as Prowl's shock flared across frame and field. "That is, if you would be willing to accompany me."

"Yes, of course, my Prime," the response was pure reflex from a shocked processor. "Is that wise?" he asked after catching up with himself.

"I think it would be," Optimus replied. "Given that I do not have a Consort yet and have just recently chosen you for Companion I expect it would create more gossip and curiosity if you were _not_ present at my table, at least this first time. While it will certainly put a lot of focus on you for a short time I think it would be beneficial in the long run. If I were too 'hide you away' this soon it would just give the rumor mill something to work with. Let them all see you and come to the conclusion that you are, for their purposes, uninteresting, and you should be left in peace fairly soon."

"I understand," Prowl inclined his helm, the motion slow to wait for his processors to work through the statement. "How would you have me behave? What I know of a Grand Couvert is nothing like how you've described it. I would enjoy being there a great deal."

"Then feel free to let your appreciation show," Optimus said without hesitation. "It should be what most of the audience expects anyway so it will cause no controversy, and it will make it easier for me to play the part as well."

"Then it would be my pleasure to join you, my Prime," Prowl's use of the title was full of warmth. "Do you wish me there this orn?"

"Tomorrow," Optimus replied, field lightening considerably and pulsing with gratitude. "For some reason Tacke never gives me more than an orn's warning before these events, even though she must have them planned much farther ahead than that. She probably fears I would try to come up with an excuse to avoid them if she gave me more time to plan ahead."

"I suspect she is correct in that fear," Prowl teased him lightly. "You are smart, cleaver and think like no noble in more generations than I can calculate. You give her great grief trying to understand how you think."

Optimus laughed. "I will admit that of all my duties, that is one of the ones I have been most tempted to shirk. If it wouldn't cause a disproportionally huge scandal and severe sociopolitical consequences for the House I 'snubbed' by doing so I probably would have."

"The duties of a Prime," Prowl teased him with mocking how egregious missing the event was. "I am glad I will make it more pleasant for you. Are there any other events you need the support for?"

"That would depend on your definition of 'need,'" Optimus said in an amused voice, giving his Companion a playful shove in reply to the teasing. "Many of my functions would definitely be more agreeable with your company, but dragging you around pointless social functions would rather defeat the purpose of the position we agreed on for you. Better that at least one of us gets something worthwhile done." He saw the Praxian scoot closer and lifted his arm to allow Prowl to lean against his side. "Are there any events in particular you _would like_ to attend?"

"Mmm, I know you don't like to hunt, and while I'd like to listen to the galas and the Senate, I'm not fond of going. I should be with you for major presentations and holiday celebrations, and I'd love to be at anything supporting the arts or education. Are there any crystal festivals in Iacon?" Prowl asked softly.

Optimus shook his helm. "I know there used to be one, but considering how everything here is a matter of prestige I assume the sponsors lost interest when they realized they'd never be able to outdo the Praxian ones no matter how much credits they poured into the project. I believe there are still one or two minor fairs, though."

Disappointment flickered through Prowl's field before he controlled it. "Perhaps when things settle some I will be able to return to Praxus on occasion then."

"I see no problem in that," Optimus said, "as long as you are prepared for some restrictions to your movements for security reasons. I do not expect you to sever all ties with your creation culture just because you live in Iacon now." A hint of curiosity made its way into his field. "Are there any events in particular you are especially eager to attend?"

"The crystal displays and contest entries the most. Some treats are only made for one or two festivals each vorn. I enjoy the good mood in the people, but I could be content with doing most things while it is closed to the public. Perhaps we can look into whether a local Sarpresul or greater in rank could play most of my guard if I am there during the day?" Prowl suggested hopefully. "There are several I often saw browsing the same displays I lingered at. It would make it so much better to be with those who enjoy it as I do, even if they are obligated to remain near me."

"That should not be too hard to arrange," Optimus agreed, silently making a note to personally contact the Barasi of Praxus to make sure it happened and soaking in the joy in fluttering doorwings and Prowl's field. It was warming how easy it was to make Prowl so happy, how _normal_ the things Prowl desired were to the Prime who still often thought as a low-status warehouse mech. "When is the next festival?"

"In seven metacycles. I should be well settled in by then," Prowl assured him.

"Good, then we have ample time for planning," Optimus said with an agreeing hum. For a moment he considered asking Prowl if he'd prefer to go alone or if they should make it an official visit of the Prime, but stopped himself before he could suggest it. This one would be for Prowl alone, so he could enjoy it without all the fuss that an official visit would undoubtedly cause. Maybe in a few vorns' time they could go together.

Letting his gaze wander around them Optimus's optics fell on the three floor-to-ceiling windows that he knew belonged to his Companion's office. "How is the work with your new office proceeding?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Excellent," Prowl didn't mute the pleasure in his field. "There have been enough Praxians here in the past that the furniture and art for an exceptional work space was already in storage. It was actually rather fun going to pick it out. For all I was trained to do so, I never was allowed to decorate or design a space before."

"Then I am glad you finally found some use for your training, and that you were able to find suitable equipment," Optimus said, once more reveling in the feeling of joy and satisfaction he could teek in Prowl's field. "Did they have everything you need?"

"Oh, yes. There were many choices. I found everything that will make it a pleasure to be there. What project would you like me to tackle first?" Prowl asked.

"Do you remember what we discussed earlier, about earning the loyalty of the staff?" Prime asked in return, and continued when he received a nod from the Praxian. "This will of course be a long term project but I would like you to compile a list of every mech working in or in close connection to the Residence. Dreamcatcher probably has much of it organized in some form or other but I know that security, for instance, is outside of his domain, and there may well be other groups as well that are organized on Palace-level. Once everyone is listed I want a short analysis of each mecha and at least one thing we could do to improve his or her existence and quality of function. You have free hands in working out the best way to proceed with this task and I do not expect it to be finished any time soon." He stopped and added with a teasing pulse of his field, "Is that enough of a challenge to keep you processor occupied for a while?"

"Definitely. You're right, it won't be quick to finish, but I can have the list compiled fairly soon," Prowl's field expressed the excitement at such a large undertaking. "Designation, function, rank, age, how long they've worked here. Anything else?"

"Yes, I would like to know the source or sources of all the intel you gather. The ideal thing would be to do interviews with everyone but I realize that is not feasible at this time as no one would give honest answers, but with a source notification it will at least be easier to judge the probable veracity of the data. Apart from that, anything you find noteworthy."

Prowl nodded and snuggled against Optimus's side more. "I will document it all." He nuzzled again, his field extending with desire in it.

"Good," Optimus replied, deliberately lowering his voice to that deep rumble that always made Prowl's doorwings quiver. "Well then, if we are done talking about work..."

Taking the non-sequester for the invitation it was Prowl happily slid onto Optimus's lap and not much more was said for the next couple of groons.

* * *

Optimus heaved a sigh of relief as the doors of the Residence closed behind them, allowing him to drop at least part of the official facade as he automatically turned his pedes straight for the lava spa, eager to get rid of the ornamental decorations the Prime traditionally wore for the Grand Couvert. Prowl followed close behind him and Optimus couldn't help but smile at the happiness in the smaller mech's field. The Praxian's obvious enjoyment had indeed done quite a good job of distracting him from his own, less enthusiastic feelings during the drawn out dinner. "So," he said as they entered the spa area and immediately were surrounded by the servants waiting for them, "from what I can see and teek I presume you found the event enjoyable."

"Yes my Prime," Prowl trilled with a faint shiver as his the gemstone, precious metal and organic ornaments were carefully stripped from him to be put away for the next major event he decided to wear them for. "It is even better that I could teek my enjoyment helping you through it. There were so many things I'd never tasted before. The skill of the chefs far greater than any I've enjoyed the work of. I must admit that seeing my creators there, seeing them watch me next to you, enjoying something they never will, was enjoyable as well."

Optimus couldn't bring himself to blame the Praxian for that, even though epicaricacy was not a sentiment he generally approved of. Prowl's creators had more than deserved it by trying to stifle such a brilliant mind as Prowl's was proving to be. "I am glad you enjoyed it," he said, turning and holding up his arms to give the detailers better access. "And having you there did indeed provide a very helpful distraction for me, for which I am very grateful. I even managed to appreciate some of the delicacies. Was there anything you found particularly to your taste?"

"I very much enjoyed the more bitter ones, especially in the candies and confections. There were so many spices in the richer soups," Prowl began a ramble that lasted well past when they'd settled up to their necks in the magma and Prowl was happy to snuggle in Prime's lap.

Optimus listened and smiled, recalling many of the courses now and found the memory of them far more enjoyable as he listened to Prowl recount them from such a different perspective. He also noted the dozen or so that Prowl _didn't_ mention. Some would remain, some could well go away if neither of them acquired a taste for it.

"Good, then I have yet a few more options for the next time I really want to spoil you," he said, placing an affectionate kiss on top of Prowl's helm. The flare of anticipation carried a double teek. One of looking forward to the next Grand Couvert and the other decidedly amourus, though questioning if the interest was mutual.

"I'm sure your interest, even only to indulge me, will make several mecha very happy," Prowl purred. "They will see it as a sign you are accepting your role more."

"A win-win situation, then," Optimus replied, meeting the Praxian's flirtatious teek with a mix of amusement and affection but also tiredness. "I am not sure I am up for more than snuggling at the moment. Would you mind if we just sit here for a while or is the charge bothering you?"

"I'm fine with snuggling," Prowl promised honestly and he snuggled in a bit more and his field relaxed into a more platonic state. "I enjoy interfacing with you, but I don't need it. It feels good when you feel good, from any cause."

Optimus hummed appreciatively and laid both his arms around the smaller mech's frame, allowing himself to relax further as they settled in a position comfortable for them both. For a few moments he offlined his optics and simply basked in warmth from the magma and the presence of an altogether friendly and affectionate field. It felt so good and allowed him to drift in that pleasantness, recovering from the first half of his orn far more easily than anything else he'd tried. A minor processor wondered why Prowl was so much better at this than Maylan and Lytan were. They were just as honest in their affection, just as easy to relax with, and while they helped it wasn't the same.

It wasn't long before the teek of Prowl drifting into a light recharge brought a smile to Optimus. The young Praxian was always so adorable when lax in recharge. It showed how much tension he carried around like it was natural and renewed Optimus's determination to tease out what tension he could ease away and what was the kind that simply existed. He knew that Prowl would never be content without duties and duties inevitably caused tension, but that didn't mean all the tension needed to be there.

His thoughts drifted to the strange set of events that had brought the Praxian into his life. Even though the end result had been extremely positive so far for him and, he hoped, for Prowl as well, that didn't change his feelings about the tradition of the Primal 'Blessing.' He knew that virtually all bonds amongst the nobility were arranged for social, economic or political reasons and that it probably didn't make any great difference to the young bot in question whether his or her first time was with one stranger or another, but the consent issues continued to bother him. It wasn't just the interfacing part, either, but that mecha in a situation of dependence were seen as bargaining chips and objects rather than individuals. He wasn't quite so idealistic as to believe in a world where every single individual could have everything they wanted and be perfectly happy all the time, but there had to be a better system than the current one that was still workable. 

It was one of the few things that he was less sure about turning Prowl loose on the larger issue. While the Praxian was very willing to help him work on things so Optimus's personal interactions were more agreeable he was less sure about tackling some of the wider cultural issues like this one. It might simply require time. It wasn't as if Prowl had been with him long. Not even a quarter decaorn wasn't nearly enough time to reassess the culture one was raised in. It had taken three centuries to produce Prowl. It was reasonable to give at least that long to change what he was raised to believe.

The whisper quiet of a servant coming close drew Optimus's attention upwards just as the servant knelt to set two goblets of coolant in exactly the right spot to be easily picked up. The servant was gone just as fast as he'd appeared as Optimus realized that he actually did want some. Moving one hand away from Prowl's back he reached out and picked up the larger goblet, shaped to fit perfectly in his hand, and took a careful sip if the icy liquid. As he did he felt the mech on his lap stir and pulsed an apology thought his field. "Sorry, I did not mean to wake you up."

"That smells good," Prowl countered and shifted so he could reach the smaller goblet meant for him. "You have been thinking hard," he murmured after a long sip.

"Is it really that obvious?" Optimus chuckled. "No wonder Tacke keeps nagging at me for being too transparent."

"It is in both our functions to notice such things," Prowl chuckled and took another sip. "She must notice to keep your reputation politically correct. I was expected to notice to recognize and do what would please my bonded and lord without being told. What is on your processor?"

For a moment Optimus considered dismissing the query with a 'nothing of importance' kind of answer, knowing the Praxian would respect the evasion, but then decided against it. He _did_ need to find an answer sooner rather than later and Prowl was really the only one he could discuss it with. "I'm trying to decide what to do about the Primal Blessing," he finally admitted. "It is only a matter of time before there is another request and I need to have a plan ready for when that happens."

"You accept it," Prowl said with a surprising amount of firmness. "Ensure that those involved among the Residence staff know what condition you expect him to be in and that you want at least a couple orns. Then do what you did with me. If they are looking forward to their future, send them on their way after breaking their seals. If not, we will study them and see if they will fit in with us."

Optimus looked surprised and then thoughtful. "You make it sound so easy," he said with a sigh. "But how can I continue to support a system where families try to buy political favors by sending me their sealed creations to play with?" He shuddered. "I know very well how my predecessors took advantage of this system and I cannot and will not follow in their pedesteps."

Prowl looked up at him, making optic contact despite the angle. "Because you need a strong family to accomplish anything and selecting from among those offered to you is the only method you have enough time for. If you want to make serious cultural changes you need more than yourself. You need an alliance, both of those close that you keep as you are keeping me, and those you have been kind and gentle to before they bond. Those who carry the next generation have more influence than many acknowledge. If they like you then their creations are likely to as well. It takes generations to change a culture."

Optimus sighed. "I see your point, Prowl, but how can I advocate against a system while at the same time making use of it myself? That is exactly the kind of double standard I want to discourage, and how can I expect others to follow unless I lead by example? And none of it changes the fact that these young mechs and femmes are brought to me without having any say in the matter."

"They didn't have any say in the bonding contract either," Prowl shrugged. "No second or fourth creation chooses who they are with. That isn't going to change. Creations are property under the law and culture. It is only a question of whether their first time is with someone who cares enough to be gentle. You care. Their intended likely doesn't."

A fairly long silence followed while Optimus turned Prowl's words over again and again in his processor. In the end he shook his helm and sighed again. "I am never going to understand the nobility," he said with an air of resignation. "But I cannot deny that that your knowledge exceeds mine by far on this subject and I have no reason to doubt the truth in your words. It is just... difficult for me to accept, and something I'll have to meditate on." He took a sip from his goblet. "You said second and fourth creations are the ones bound by these rules," he then continued, steering the conversation in a less personal and more educational direction. "I can understand that a first creation is special given their status as heir, but what makes third creations stand out from second and fourth?"

"The third creation is the spare heir. If something happens to the first creation, the third is next in line to inherit the title and debts of their creators," Prowl explained smoothly. The fifth and seventh creations are similar, though the further from the primary heir one is the less likely you are to be held to the strict standards of the early creations."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to have the second creation as spare heir?" Optimus asked. "Why pass them over in favor of the third?"

"Because the role of the second creation is to form alliances with other Houses," Prowl said simply. "Remember, creations are commodities. Any you don't need to run your House are used to strengthen the House by selling off."

Optimus's engine gave a disapproving rev and he failed to completely keep the disgust out of his field. "I do not understand how anyone can treat a being coming from their very own spark as a mere commodity," he said, subglyphs underlining that he was not upset with Prowl but with the system as a whole. "Are there no emotional bonds between creators and creation at all?"

"Of course, they are family and they take care of you," Prowl's confusion at the extreme reaction came through clearly in his field. "That does not supersede the needs of the House. Mates eventually form an emotional bond. I would have with Rimfire in time." He paused and tried to think, then settled for a question when he admitted to himself he didn't know enough about Orion's world. "Was there any emotional connection with your boss, or anyone above you in rank on the job?"

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* * *

And here are our notes AKA what I keep at the bottom of the working chapter. Only the new scenes won't be written.

1: The consent issue. Probably the only argument that'll get him past that one is some version of "well, harsh truth is: they'll be de-sealed no matter what and they won't have a say in the matter, so would you rather it be by you, who'll treat them right, or someone who might not?" Prowl can also push the fact that he knows from experience how this culture works; as he's said before consent is a non-issue and the only thing most virgins fear is being hurt or deemed unsatisfactory by their partner. Optimus can't hide behind his concern for the virgins when _he's_ the one having the issues with the concept of consent.

2\. The 'lead by example' issue. He won't accept any kind of 'you're Prime, special rules apply to you' since he wants the same basic rules to apply to everyone. Possible solution: He _can't_ abolish the practice, since it's originally intended as an act of piety and it would be seen as the Prime withdrawing even further from the people by refusing young mecha the 'honor' of the Blessing. Instead he's doing the best he can by actually making the Blessing something special for the virgin (as opposed to his predecessors who just fragged them), thus bringing the practice closer to its original meaning.

\-- Prime finally works out that Prowl has a (relatively) high sex drive.  
\-- a kink room, complete with bondage equipment and all kinds of more or less terrifying stuff, also a leftover from previous Primes. The courtesans show Prowl it's there  
\-- Prime watches Prowl, Maylan and Lytan in the kink room. Prowl as sub. Kink: control.  
\-- Update on Prowl's primary project?  
\-- Prowl guides Prime through some mild renovations  
\-- They visit the Grand Library after it's organized. Prowl asks about all the material that isn't there.  
\-- Prowl (and Prime?) going to Praxus for the Crystal Festival.  
\--  
\--  
\--  
\--  
\--  
\-- 

Prime's staff:  
**Meso Garda** : flesh protector in Czech. Sentinel's last Physician to the Prime.  
**Tacke** : Prime's PR manager. Femme.  
**Red Alert** : Chief of Security  
**Windsong** was brought in as much because of his talent as an entertainer and ability to improve Sentinel Prime's mood as any good reason," Noitefel's expression was almost fond in it's annoyance. "I think you may find him the most useful of us off the battlefield. Give him an instrument and room and he can bend the mood of anyone in audio range. He's a top-notch spy too, though he's offended at the statement. He makes it his business to know everything about everyone, friend and foe, and uses it to our advantage. He's something of a joker to us, but given you have The Twins and Tread Bolt around, you'll barely notice him."  
**Dreamcatcher** : Prime's seneschal (Manager of the Residence). white and gold with only thin lines of red to mark him as a servant of the Prime  
**Epostle** : Prime's first adjutant (Prime's secretary)  
**???** : Public Manager of the Prime.  
**Safnari** : curator of the Palace art collection.

Red Alert: Officer Sentry/Chief of security of the Palace of the Primes  
Optimus' courtesans: Maylan and Lytan -- deep red and burgundy small convoy class, mechs, purring voices and engines.  
Hound: chief groundskeeper of the Palace art collection  
Reeda: Prowl's primary servant

The Primal Guard:  
Chromia: captain of the guard  
Thundercracker: captain of the air guard

Prowl is a 4th creation  
Prowl's creator: Lord Skyshard, ruler of the House of the Shining Sun, third house of Praxus  
Prowl's intended: Lord Rimfire, ruler of the House of Far Reach, the second house of Crystal City

The Residence  
[ Prime's Palace floorplan](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Prime-s-Palace-floorplan-635272191) by [Gatekat](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  
Level 1: the bulk of the 'back of house' stuff.  
Level 2: the main entrance and most of the public places (ballrooms, great hall, 'public' art gallery, 'public' lava pool, etc)  
Level 3: A mix of suites and places for the Prime's harem to enjoy (group baths, grand library, the gardens, etc)  
        The Grand Library http://skinst.deviantart.com/art/Universal-Library-594826860  
Level 4: A mix of suites and places for the Prime's harem to enjoy  
Level 5: A mix of suites for flight frames and places for the Prime's harem to enjoy  
What level the Prime lives on depends on his desires. Some like to walk into a garden from his suite while others want a view or flight access. I expect Optimus is on level 3, given he's a grounder.

nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years; 

**Author's Note:**

> Dead Story. There will never be more.
> 
> Summary: When the newly elevated Optimus Prime is introduced to a tradition of buying his favor with the seals of young nobles he has to find a way to cope. Fortunately for him, he's good at talking and listening and his first offering has quite the processor in his helm.
> 
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read. 
> 
> Combined: <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=10971870#t10971870>  
> <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=14513664#t14513664>  
> [http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?view=15557013#t15557013](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=15557013#t15557013)
> 
> Way back in time there was this tradition for deeply religious mechs to offer their seals to the Prime before they bonded, as a way of showing that their devotion to Primus came before everything else. With time other mechs started doing the same just to seem more devout than they actually were, and out of that grew the tradition within the nobility/higher castes to offer the seals of their creations to the Prime, either as soon as they upgraded into an adult frame of before they were to be bonded. As the Primes in turn changed from spiritual leaders set on helping the people into political figures, most of them more interested in serving their own purposes, this tradition became a way of buying the Prime's favor. It further degenerated into a convenient way for the families to get rid of troublesome members - sometimes the Prime would keep the mech as a concubine, and even if he didn't a 'Prime-touched' young mech was easy and cheap to bond off to just about anyone (normal creations' bonding contracts are carefully negotiated for political, monetary and status reasons but a Prime-touched mech has already served his purpose for the family, so to speak, so there is no dishonor for the family in arranging a less than perfect match for him).
> 
> And now, here we have the recently elevated Optimus Prime. Unlike the recent Primes he doesn't find the idea of a steady stream of virgins thrown his way especially appealing - in fact he finds it outright horrible. He's probably heard of this "Primal privilege" but never actually thought about it until it gets dropped on his helm just like that one orn. And he has to go through with it, not only for political reasons but also because the virgin in question will probably be punished rather badly by his family if he "fails to please the Prime."
> 
> Optimus is still struggling with how he's supposed to deal with the situation when he retires to his quarters, and almost crashes as he finds the mech he's supposed to de-seal bound to his berth and drugged out of his senses - "for the Prime's safety and convenience" as one of the servants informs him. Now, raping a helpless and barely conscious mech is something Optimus just can't bring himself to do no matter the consequences, so he orders the mech to be untied and have the drugs flushed out of him. Once the mech - who happens to be Prowl - is coherent again Optimus has a long talk with him, discussing the situation with the surprisingly calm and collected young(ish) mech. Prowl turns out to know way more about the system than Optimus does and he suggests a way to make use of this fragged-up tradition until Prime is powerful enough to abolish it: Just as in Prowl's case, many of the mechs chosen for this are mechs with real talents, interests or opinions that go against typical high caste values, which is why they are a nuisance to their families. For a Prime who really desires to change the world for the better, however, that is exactly kind of mechs that he'll need.
> 
> In the end they reach an agreement and Prime announces that he will keep Prowl, officially as his concubine but in reality as a companion and adviser. And so the strangest recruitment channel ever is in place. Of course not every single virgin coming his way will be suitable and they'll have to find a way to deal as fairly as possible with those. I imagine there'll be a few cases where a mech's lover/bondmate-to-be is secretly smuggled there to do the actual seal-breaking and probably at least one case where Optimus is actually forced to 'face someone who's unconscious just because the family insists that the virgin must have no memories of it or something like that.


End file.
